


Turner, McAdams, Swann: The Curse of the Black Pearl

by Neverland_123



Series: Pirates of the Caribbean: Turner, McAdams, Swann [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Attempted Murder, F/M, Half-Siblings, Kidnapping, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, Parent Death, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn, Step-Brothers, Step-parents, Step-siblings, Trauma, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 81,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverland_123/pseuds/Neverland_123
Summary: Will Turner, his twin sister and their mother thought their lives were over when a death notification for their father arrives, along with a mysterious medallion. Their mother remarries and they gain a step-brother, and the blended family decide to make a new life across the ocean. But a shipwreck and rescue derails them to Port Royal, where they decide to settle.Eight years later their world is changing again. Will pines for Elizabeth from afar as he struggles for recognition in his blacksmith trade. His sister Flora is Elizabeth's maid and confidant, trying to keep everyone happy in the face of her own wants and dreams. Their step-brother Jonathon grows restless, yearning for adventure and the affection of sweet Flora. But their world is shattered the night pirates raid their town. Kidnappings, curses, and Jack Sparrow send them on a journey they'd never imagined and an adventure they'd never forget. COTBP re-telling
Relationships: Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, Jack Sparrow & Original Character(s), Jack Sparrow & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Pirates of the Caribbean: Turner, McAdams, Swann [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091117
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	1. The Two Marriages of Helen Turner

In retrospect the small one-roomed house was not meant for that many visitors, but for the past several weeks many neighbors had been in and out at all sorts of hours, bringing with them bread, words of encouragement, and offerings of condolences. After all, a recent widow with two children certainly called for the lamenting of their recent tragedy. A black crape flower had been bundled up and placed above the door, which was often left open during the day since one member of the family was always home. 

This particular block of houses in Portsmouth consisted of an array of Scots who bundled together and took care of their own. So when Helen Turner received word that her husband William had been lost to disease while at sea, and thus committed to it as most merchant sailors were destined to be, her neighbors felt terrible that she had no body nor grave to tend to. William Turner was from Glasgow originally, though he left to live with relatives on the Isle of Man when he was still a child. Helen was from Kilmore, a little village next to the sea. The ship William was traveling on docked for repairs there and he fell smitten with Helen, marrying her within the year. Having worked on ships since he was a lad, he took his new wife to Portsmouth where he knew there was more work and a good number of other Scottish families nearby for her to be friendly with.

When their children came, a pair of twins, William was at sea. They had arrived several weeks early and were so small that the midwife thought the girl-child, born two minute after her brother, might not live. But slowly both the babes gained strength, and when William returned he was greeted to a son named after him and daughter named Flora. Their neighbors and friends never knew which ship William worked on, or if there were several he contracted with. Without a word he would be gone and months later Helen would appear at the dock and bring her husband home, tucked into his arm and blushing at something he whispered to her, like he’d never left. The other sailors would laugh when William would try to tip Helen’s cap off to get a peak at her red hair, and she’d playfully slap his hands away.

Their daughter Flora had that same hair when she was small, but by the time she’d grown out of her swaddling clothes it had gotten shades darker, more russet. Young Will had his fathers serious face and dark coloring, though Flora got their father’s blue eyes. William thought the twins had their mother’s smile, which they used to greet him happily every time he came home. 

And that’s how their life continued on for the next eleven years. It was a simple and happy life, none any different than most families where the father worked away from home for sometimes months at a time. He sent home money when he could and Helen took up work as a cook with two well-to-do families. Helen was dismayed that her children didn’t keep their Scottish accents as they got older but was happy that their heritage wouldn’t be lost amongst the other neighbors from her home growing up.

But that happy home life was shattered when a man from the docks arrived with a parcel addressed to Mrs. Turner. The older man said he had been paid by a solicitor in one of the settlements in the Caribbean, once he found out their ship was destined for Portsmouth, to deliver this to the family of William Turner. She shakily took it and thanked the man, who gave her a sympathetic look, already having an idea at the news that awaited her.

When her children found her later sitting at their little table in the corner of their one roomed home, she was crying into her hands, her shoulders shaking with each sob that wracked her frame. On the table was the notification of the death of William Turner, saying he had died of a disease while at sea, his body committed to the ocean. Along with the notification was a letter, one that Helen would snatch away and not let the twins read, claiming it not for the eyes of children. When she’d pulled the letter away her elbow had tipped the small parcel that the letters came in, and out fell a wadded up cloth tied together with string. Helen, with her children at either side of her, untied the string to find out what was hidden inside.

A gold medallion with a grinning skull face, attached to a chain, clattered onto the table, staring up at them.

That very medallion adorned young Will Turner’s neck a month later when he answered the door to their neighbor, Mr. Ramsay McAdams, and his son Jonathon. The twins had known the McAdams for half their lives, and Jonathon was a frequent playmate whenever the children had free time from their chores, the boy being only a year younger. 

Within hours of hearing the news of William Turner’s death, Ramsay had rushed to their little house completely out of breath before collecting himself and removing his hat when Helen answered. Ramsay had owed a lot to the Turner’s when he’d first arrived in Portsmouth. After his own wife Jane had died giving birth to a still-born baby, leaving him and three-year-old Jonathon alone, Ramsay’s spinster aunt and a slew of female cousins had tried to encourage him to remarry. He had been working as a servant in a laird’s estate and had wanted to find better opportunities for himself and his son. His aunt had been friends with Helen’s family, and knowing that they had relocated to Portsmouth had written the Turners and inquired about work.

Within months he had packed up his son and a letter of recommendation from his employer and had made the journey to Portsmouth. Helen had helped him get a position in a household as a footman. Ramsay thrived in the position and had his eye on working himself up to become a butler. He wasn’t required to live on property but had to be there early every morning, so he and his son rented a room from an elderly man not far from the Turners. He would often walk to work and find himself in company with Helen and another employee of her household, Agnes Dwight, and the trio would pass the time chatting until they had to separate to their destined households of employment. 

Jonathon had latched onto Young Will and Flora, and where you would find one you’d often find the other two. The children could often be found playing by the docks to watch the sailors unload their goods, and sometimes the boys would be paid to help. Young Will and Jonathon would often find scraps of wood and construct toy swords or tiny boats for them to throw into the water. The few books they had access to Flora would read aloud, and when they grew bored of the same verses and poems she would make some up and the boys would re-enact stories of chivalrous knights, evil wizards and swashbuckling pirates. 

When William Turner returned home from sea he was good company to Ramsay and they were often seen together at the tavern with William relaying a story of the strange and exciting people he would meet in the colonies. If you were to ever get Ramsay drunk enough one could get him to admit he was jealous of William’s exploits at sea, amongst other things. And although he found William quite serious at times, Ramsay could not deny that the sailor was very intelligent and quick-minded, and Ramsay thought the man’s talents were wasted out at sea. And then the man would would disappear onto an unknown ship and for months Jonathon would be back to the normal routine of rising for work, walking with Helen and Agnes, performing his duties for the master, coming home and having an evening meal with his son.

But now his friend was dead, his family without a husband or father. They had taken him in when he’d first arrived knowing nobody, helped him find good employment and kept him in good spirits and company when he’d thought he’d made a terrible mistake in his grief to start over in Portsmouth. He owed much of his and his son’s happiness to William and Helen and he would see his friend’s widow taken care of.

So when he arrived for a visit a month after William’s death, greeted by Young Will—now just Will, Ramsay supposed, since he was the man of the house—he was welcomed by the air of familiarity he’d enjoyed these past few years. Bread that Helen had helped bake at her employer’s house was sliced for the evening stew and soon he and his son were invited to stay for a meal. This was the first time Helen had permitted company in the evening, and Ramsay felt honored to be included. The next week he and Jonathon dined again with the Turners it was not long before it became a Sunday tradition. 

One night, after their fourth Sunday meal, before the time society would politely dictate it was time for Ramsay and Jonathon to take their leave, Helen surprised him by asking him to stay a moment. The twins, now almost twelve, and his son not far behind, were sent to take a walk.

“May I ask you something Mr. McAdams? And if you find it too personal please forgive me,” She and him sat back down at the table, the sun only just starting to make it’s way down in the sky and coming through the small front window, casting a light over Helen’s face. “But I just don’t know who else to speak to about this. Someone who’s also experience this, this loss that we both have had.”

Ramsay stood straighter, getting her meaning. He had lost a wife and she a husband. “What can I help you with Mrs. Turner? You need only ask.”

She looked down at the table, not wanting to meet many people’s eyes as of late. She saw pity everywhere and was beginning to resent it. Ramsay was the only one who didn’t look at her like that past the first day he’d come to offer his condolences, didn’t act like she would shatter at the mere mention of her husband’s name. The husband she’d named her son after.

“I suppose I just wanted to know if,” She stopped, trying to find the best words to describe her plight. “If you ever felt guilty for feeling joy after you lost your Jane?”

His breath sharpened at the mention of his wife’s name. Besides his son no one in Portsmouth ever mentioned her, ever knew her. It felt like a lifetime ago since he’d known anyone to bring her up. Helen continued, “It’s just, there are times that I find myself wanting to throw things things against the wall, break a chair over the floor and scream until I rip my own hair out because I miss William so. And then there are days where all I want to do is talk about him and how he used to make me laugh, but the other women look at me like I’ve committed a great sin for not being in complete anguish over the subject.”

She looked at him imploringly, begging him for some sort of answer to her next question, “So I wish for you to tell me the truth, sir. From one young widower to another, am I such a wicked person for wishing to laugh with my children about some antic my husband would get up to? About wanting to speak about him that doesn’t reduce his life down to the unexpected way he was taken from me? Is it too much wish to find some light in this darkness that keeps trying to pull me back from being happy again?”

Her shining eyes met his and he couldn’t help but admire her strength. He saw tears at some point had silently fallen down her cheeks while she spoke but she would let no sob escape her.

When he finally found his words he’d hoped they’d ring loud and true for her, “I’m sorry I did not realize it sooner, this plight of yours. And I must apologize for being so ignorant at ignoring your feelings—no, no, I have,” She had moved to appease him but he would not have it. “I thought that by letting you come to these conclusions on your own would be the best, but I see now I have played a part in your grief.”

“He was your friend too,” She pointed out.

“But he was your husband. And Jane was my wife,” he said, suddenly getting very solemn. “And there were days that I wished someone would have brought her up. To acknowledge that she existed and brought light to my life and gave me a beautiful son who has her eyes.”

Helen nodded understandingly, her own daughter having those beautiful blue eyes that William would look at her adoringly with.

He continued, “And to answer your question, you are not wicked at all. Quite the opposite Mrs. Turner. It think you and I were quite lucky to have had such wonderful people in our lives. And to think that they would want us to remain miserable whenever we think about them would make them monsters, and they were anything but.”

He could see Helen trying to suppress a smile, like she had probably been training her self to do these past couple of months for fear of appearing improper. She wiped away the tear from her cheek and cleared her throat. “Will you tell me about her, about Jane?”

This surprised him, as did the warm feeling that suddenly spread throughout his breast as a shy smile started at the corner of his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d talked about his wife, it probably being around Jonathon’s birthday when the boy had asked how the two had met. So he started there.

He told Helen how his wife Jane had come from an English family, but she’d been orphaned in her teens and had traveled with family friends who had been personal guests of the laird he’d worked for. The family friends she’d traveled with settled in the village and she right along with them. He’d run into her sometimes at the small market and whenever she was at a gathering of the laird. She found her shy and sweet and easy to talk to. He himself was a quiet man and found her presence lovely whenever she graced the estate with it.

Helen listened contently until their children returned from their walk, neither adult having noticed it had started to grow dark. Will came in first, “Is it alright if we come in now? We stayed out as long as we could but Flora started to get scared.”

“I did not!” She pushed her brother’s his arm and turned to Jonathon, “Jon, tell them I didn’t!”

Both of the adults laughed and decided it was time to call it a night. The McAdams men said their goodbyes and began their short walk home, both feeling colder the farther they got away but it wasn’t due to the chill. A warmth radiated throughout the tiny home of the Turners, and every time Ramsay and Jonathon left it got harder and harder to ignore.

Soon Ramsay wasn’t just walking Helen to work, he began seeing her on their way home as well. On their planned meals at her home he began asking what he could bring and made sure Jonathon would pick up fresh fish from the docks or a pheasant that afternoon so Helen would not be put out. 

And then the children would be sent out and they could just talk amongst themselves. It wouldn’t matter the subject, they seemed to be able to talk about anything. At first it was of their departed spouses, and would move onto the antics of their employers and fellow servants at arms. Of what they’d read or heard about concerning news from London. Or from the new world across the ocean. And from there Ramsay would confess his want to travel across the ocean, to see this land of opportunity for himself but also reveal his fears of venturing into such an unknown place.

The day he realized he’d fallen quite in love with Helen and her children were both thanks in part due to Jonathon. Where Will was a more reserved boy Ramsay knew his Jonathon could be quite a wild thing when left to his own devices. He’d mind when told to and was better now that he was older, but there were days Ramsay had to fight the urge to thump the boy on the back of his head.

His son’s daftness had caused the boy to rip the back of his shirt while attempting to climb over a fence. Ramsay had entered the Turner home and found his son sullenly standing in the middle of the home with a quilt about his shoulders while Helen mended said shirt in the corner. Flora was standing next to Jonathon with her arms crossed, her face scrutinizing his every move.

“Jonathon,” Ramsay scolded, “You’re getting too old for such antics. You’re eleven, nearly a man now.”

His son looked at him but said nothing, instead his eyes darted to Flora and back to his father, as if asking permission from the girl to speak. The girl quickly looked at her friend’s father and exclaimed, “He cannot answer you right now, Mr. McAdams, because he is under a spell. He must remain as still and silent as a statue until his shirt is fixed and I remove the spell from him.”

Raising his eyebrows, he regarded the two children. “I see. And what spell, Miss Flora, have you put on my boy?”

She pointed to Jonathon’s neck, “Until I remove the magic talisman he is to stay put.” A flash of gold protruded between the curtain of the quilt hanging off Jonathon’s shoulder, and upon closer inspection Ramsay could see the strange medallion dangling between his breast bones.

Though Ramsay himself found it eerie, the twins absolutely coveted the chance to possess the last thing their father sent them. To keep the peace, and her sanity, their mother had suggested wearing it in shifts. Upon seeing his own son wearing the medallion, an item most treasured by, and never touched, by anyone but the Turner’s themselves struck Ramsay into dumb silence. 

His silence must have been mistaken for anger because Flora quickly snatched the medallion off Jonathon. “Alright, the spell is broken, he can talk now.” 

“Oh finally,” Jonathon muttered.

But the spell hadn’t been broken, Ramsay thought. He and his son were completely bewitched by the Turner woman. They had captured both men with their kindness and ability to make even the most mundane thing magical. And sweet Helen just chuckled in the corner as she mended the shirt of a child that wasn’t hers, without ever asking for anything in return except the company and ear of his father. And suddenly Ramsay wanted to offer her so much more than that.

It would take two more months before he had the courage to call her anything other than Mrs. Turner. A few weeks after being allowed her Christian name he stole a kiss from her and thought her blush to be the most beautiful thing. One quiet Sunday he took Will for a walk in the park, just the two of them, and had a serious talk as one man to another. As one man who cared for Helen Turner to another. And Ramsay assured the twelve-year-old boy that he would make no move until Will, the man of the house, thought him worthy.

That Sunday at dinner, Will let Mr. McAdams hold the treasured medallion. Flora smiled secretly while munching on her bread. Jonathon kept trying to hold Flora’s hand, which she shooed away in favor of eating said bread. And Helen raised her eyebrows at the whole scene, looking between her son and Mr. McAdams.

Nine months after being told William Turner died at sea, Ramsay McAdams asked Helen Turner an important question. She said yes.

Three months later, he asked his new family if they were willing to take a long journey and start a new life across the ocean. They said yes

And so Ramsay and Helen McAdams along with their blended gaggle of children boarded a large merchant vessel bound for the colonies in the Americas, toward the Carolinas. Sadly, Ramsay and Helen would never make it to that intended destination.

But their children would leave marks across the new world. And the world’s end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this alternative telling of the Turner family. I'll be making minor but believable changes to certain plot elements just to tie it in with the story.
> 
> I know Bootstrap is from Glasgow originally so I just really wanted to make their ancestry Scottish because I love it so much. I also changed it to the family believing (and receiving 'proof') that he died so his widow could legally remarry. Without proof some people had to wait years. Also society at the time was different and with mourning widows it was frowned upon if the woman acknowledged or gave serious considerations to suitors until at least six months after her husband's passing. As a woman too it would be expected for her to remarry in order to support her children, but I did not want to make Helen seem like some uncaring woman and Ramsay as some sort of opportunistic wretch. There is genuine affection and respect between them. 
> 
> This and the next chapter are laying the foundation for the background of Will, Flora and Jonathon who are going to be the main characters. While I owe a lot to Helen and Ramsay and hope the readers enjoy this first chapter, I would advise you to love them but not get too terribly attached.


	2. Shipwreck and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth Swann and the HMS Dauntless come upon a terrible shipwreck

No could say where the fog had come from. The night before had been very clear and the stars so bright and radiant that the ship’s navigator could pinpoint their exact location, assuring the Navy men of the HMS _Dauntless_ that their destination was still in reach. To the higher officers the fog didn’t scare them, for this ship was the power in these waters. A top rated dreadnought of the King’s Navy, sporting over 100 guns with 35lbs cannons, it would have the advantage in any fight.

But a battle is the last thing Lieutenant James Norrington wished to engage in on this journey. They were bound for Port Royal, Jamaica and bringing with them the new governor who was to take up post there, Weatherby Swann. Along for the journey was his young daughter, Elizabeth, who was eleven years of age.

The young girl was currently at the bow of the ship, sailing through the ghostly fog that had some of the lower ranking marines nervous. She was singing to herself quietly, being the only child on the ship and a young lady of privilege she knew how to entertain and conduct herself.

_“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._   
_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,_   
_Drink up me hearties, yo ho._   
_We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,_   
_Drink up me hearties, yo ho.”_

Elizabeth saw how dense the fog was and thought if not for the bowsprit she could pretend she was flying through a cloud. The thought gladdened her as she smiled and continued singing.

_“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._   
_We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack,_   
_Drink up me—”_

A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she gasped to turn around and see the mutton-chopped face of Mr. Joshamee Gibbs.

“Quite, missy!” He whispered, his eyes darting behind her to scan what he could of the ocean. “Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don’t want to bring them down on us, do ya?”

She blinked at him warily, not sure how to respond. Suddenly a voice proclaimed from across the deck. “Mr. Gibbs! That will do.”

Lieutenant Norrington commanded respected even from yards away, Governor Swann standing just behind him. Mr. Gibbs, ever the superstitious sailor, said, “She was singing about pirates. Bad luck to be singing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked,” the Lieutenant replied dryly. “On your way.” Gibbs nodded and continued on with his duties, grabbing the mop he’d abandoned a few moments ago. Elizabeth could hear him mumbling about how it was bad luck to have women aboard as well, “Even miniature ones,” like her. Despite this she liked Gibbs, he didn’t treat her like a silly child.

“I think it’d be rather exciting to meet a pirate,” Elizabeth said, immediately seeing the disapproval on her father’s face. Norrington walked to stand next to her at the railing.

“Think again, Miss Swann. Vile and dissolute creatures the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves—a short drop and a sudden stop,” Norrington smiled quickly at his little quip, looking out onto the ocean. Elizabeth just look confused and turned to Gibbs for clarification. The sailor grabbed his collar and helpfully mimed being hung, causing the girl to gasp.

“Lieutenant Norrington,” Governor Swann quickly intervened. “I appreciate your fervor, but I am concerned about the effect this subject will have on my daughter.” Norrington nodded and apologized before heading off the continue his duties.

Once the Lieutenant was out of earshot though, Elizabeth piped up, “Actually, I find it all fascinating.”

“Yes,” Governor Swann replied, “That’s precisely what concerns me.” He then gently reminded his daughter that they would begin their new lives soon, and that they would have to act in a manner befitting their station. Elizabeth dutifully nodded, watching her father walk away before she continued her gazing onto the ocean ahead of her, daydreaming of their new life once they reached Port Royal. Of the adventures in paradise that her books promised her were possible.

Suddenly something appeared floating in the water, a lady’s parasol. Delighted, Elizabeth leaned over the railing and watched it spin, bobbing up and down on the waves as it floated past the ship. But where did it come from? Elizabeth wondered as it sailed farther away. She looked ahead again, waiting to see what else the ocean would produce for her.

She almost lost her voice when, indeed, the ocean did send something else in the ship’s direction. A piece of driftwood supporting the figures of what looked to be two young boys. One laying on his back and the other on his stomach, clutching desperately to the lifeline.

“Look! Two boys! There’s boys in the water!” Elizabeth cried out, pointing to the sea. Immediately a crowd of sailors ran to the railing.

“MAN OVERBOARD!” Norrington yelled, and called for a hook to snag the driftwood and haul the boys aboard.

Elizabeth ran the railing trying to see through the all the activity on deck, barely getting a glimpse of the first boy, his sandy blonde hair drenched and sticking this face. He was awake and shaking as he was passed from one sailor and onto another before being placed on his feet. The other boy, this one with darker hair and unconscious, was laid down carefully onto the deck. Norrington kneeled beside him, checking him over. “He’s still breathing. Child, where did you come from? What happened?” He addressed the soaked boy standing next to him.

But the poor lad appeared in shock, absolutely shaking while his eyes never left his unconscious companion. Finally, his little voice rasped, “Is he really okay?” Referring to the other boy.

“Yes, yes he is,” Norrington, still kneeling, grasped the boy by shoulders and made him look him in the face. “I need you to be brave and focus on me now. Can you do that?” He waited until the boy nodded, finally appearing to gain his senses. “Good. Now tell me what happened.”

But the answer came not from the boy but from Gibbs, who had stepped onto the railing and grasped the ratline for support, “Mary mother of God…..”

They all turned to take in a horrific site. The wreckage of a ship, the hull still on fire, lay sinking just off the starboard side. Pieces of the ship and her cargo absolutely littered the waters around them, along with some bodies of the crew. The sailors hushed as they took it in, watching as the mast was eaten away by flames, snapping in half like kindling before tumbling into the water.

“What happened here?” A horrified Governor Swann asked.

“It was probably the powder magazine. Merchant vessels run heavily armed,” Norrington theorized.

The boy suddenly sprang forward to clutch the railing, his little knuckles turning white.

“My family!” he cried, “My father—please—they were, they were on the ship—”

Every sailor sprang to action, Norrington barking orders to rouse the captain and get a boat ready to search for survivors. In all the chaos on deck Gibbs had the wherewithal to pick up the unconscious boy from the ground and placed him on a crate to keep him from being trampled. A blanket was quickly brought forth and draped over him. Elizabeth and the blonde boy sidled up to Gibbs, who while tucking the blanket around the child kept muttering, “Lot of good being heavily armed did them,” He saw the children looking up at him and he shook his head, “Everyone’s thinking it but I’m just saying it. Pirates!”

Elizabeth gasped, looking to the boy for confirmation, but he shivered and just said, “I-I don’t know. We were below when it happened. Suddenly we heard men yelling and when we were coming up we heard a loud boom, and suddenly we were in the water and there was smoke everywhere.”

“What’s your name?” Elizabeth asked him, seeing he was about her age.

“Jonathon McAdams,” he answered and then turned to look out toward the burning the ship. “We were traveling together, our whole family.”

Norrington and his men rowed the longboat through debris, trying to find any survivors but only coming upon the corpses of four men so far. They were getting ready to circle about to check more of the area when they heard it; shouts for help from at least two different voices carried through the smoke. “Over there!” Someone pointed just beyond the wreck.

As they rowed closer they saw it was an overturned dingy, one end completely submerged and the other end bobbing like a cork. Two people were struggling to stay afloat on it while also trying not to cause it to sink any lower. An adult man was clutching onto the submerged side, waving frantically to get their attention, while he tried to support a smaller figure who lay half their body on the dingy. As they got closer they saw it was a young girl.

“Please, over here!” He yelled, and indicated for them to take the girl first. She settled on the floor, her sopping mess of long hair giving the poor thing the appearance of a drowned rat. Once the man was pulled aboard he gathered her in his arms and tried to warm the child up., “Please keep looking, sir. My wife and my sons were with us as well.” The man was desperately looking around them, trying to find any signs of life in the water.

“Were there other families or children aboard besides yours?” Norrington asked. Though he already suspected the answer, the Lieutenant was glad when the man shook his head. He shared similar features and the same shade of blondish hair like one of the boys they’d already rescued. “Then I believe we have both of your sons aboard already. They are alive.”

“You have Will and Jonathon?!?!” The girl exclaimed before sitting up abruptly and jumped to hug Norrington. None of the men, especially the young lieutenant, expected it, and the boat rocked at the sudden momentum. The men scrambled to correct the weight and balance while Norrington found himself being squeezed around the middle, his uniform getting soaked through. To keep from falling he leaned forward and awkwardly placed one hand on the girls upper back and one on top of her head. She was at most maybe a year older than Miss Swann, just a child, so he patted her head twice before very briefly returning the hug.

“Thank you, thank you.” She kept whispering, before her father collected her away from the blushing officer, giving him an apologetic look. There was nothing in Norrington’s military training that told him how to react to soaked adolescent girls embracing him. The girl than looked around, her face suddenly falling with realization, “Where’s Ma?”

Elizabeth was alone with the unconscious boy, Jonathon having walked a few yards away to stand with Gibbs to watch for the the rescue boat returning. She desperately hoped the boys would be reunited with their family, her shuddering to think how terrible it would be find yourself lost in the ocean like they had. She was so glad she’d been on deck to spot them, otherwise they may have floated right past the ship.

Peering down at the boy, who looked her age, maybe a year older if that, she moved to push some of his wet hair out of his eyes. Her fingers had barely grazed his cold skin when he gasped awake, his frantic brown eyes finding hers. Elizabeth gasped at first from surprise, but quickly spoke to him soothingly. “It’s okay. My name is Elizabeth Swann.”

He was breathing quickly, trying to catch his breath and clear his lungs. The world around them went silent and for a moment it was just the two of them as he calmed down, taking in this girl looking down at him. His voice was raspy as gave his name, “Will Turner.”

She looked confused for a moment but recovered, “I’m watching over you and your brother, Will.”

His eyes began to droop and his head lowered back to the crate. As he began to lose consciousness again Elizabeth heard him mumbling, “Where’s Flora? My ma?”

Elizabeth’s heart went out to the poor boy knowing his mother had been on that burning wreckage. She made a note to ask Jonathon about their last names, because last she checked one usually shared the same name with their brothers. Or perhaps they were cousins? As Will shifted back to sleep that’s when she saw the chain around his neck. Curious, she pulled it from under his shirt to see a hint of gold at the end and looked closer. She gasped as she saw the skull on the medallion staring back at her, the same type she’d seen in her books that depicted the Jolly Roger.

“You’re a pirate?” She asked aloud, thinking he would wake up and answer. She didn’t want to believe it; he and Jonathon were so young and seemed like such sweet boys.

“FLORA!” She heard Jonathon yell behind her, and she gasped and quickly stood up, hiding the medallion behind her back as sailors ran past her to help a girl aboard.

Offering a hand to the girl, Gibbs helped her over the railing and as soon as her feet touched the deck she found herself in the tight embrace of Jonathon. Another longboat with more room had joined the search and Flora said Mr. McAdams was staying with Norrington to look for her mother. Jonathon breathed a sign of relief knowing his father was okay.

“Where’s Will?” Flora asked and before Jonathon could speak Elizabeth raised her hand, the one not hiding the medallion, to wave them over.

“He’s over here,” She called. Flora was surprised to see another girl on the ship, especially one dressed so nicely and her hair curled in such a way, looking quite the proper little lady. She introduced herself as Elizabeth Swann.

“I’m Flora Turner,” She gave a tiny curtsy like her mother had taught her to do if she ever found herself in the company of the families she cooked for.

She saw Will was lying on a crate covered by a blanket. Elizabeth and Jonathon assured her he was alright, just sleeping. “May I ask why you and Will have the same last name but Jonathon doesn’t?” Elizabeth asked while gazing down at Will.

“Jonathon’s father is married to Will and mine’s mother, we’re step-siblings,” She looked out toward the wreckage, trying to find the longboats. “He’s trying to find my mother now with those sailors.”

Jonathon put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sure she’s fine, Flora. She’s probably holding onto a piece of the boat like Will and I did.”

“I’m so glad we found you,” Elizabeth said. “Lieutenant Norrington won’t give up until he’s searched everywhere.”

“Is that the man in charge?” When Elizabeth nodded Flora thought to the man she’d hugged in the boat. “Where is this ship going anyway?”

“To Port Royal in Jamaica. My father has just been appointed as governor there. We’ve come from London,” She looked at Will and then back at Flora. “Who is older?”

“Will and I are twins, though he always points out he’s two minutes older,” She rolled her eyes a little and laughed. “We just turned twelve.”

“I’m eleven,” Jonathon added. Elizabeth smiled at him, and informed him that they were the same age before adding, “I’ve never met twins before.”

Sharing a look, Jonathon and Flora shared a giggle, “Well we’ve never met a governor’s daughter before,” she said. “You’re quite lovely.”

Before Elizabeth could respond that she found them quite lovely as well, it appeared that the longboats had returned. Norrington voice could be heard from below, calling for the ship’s doctor. Several sailors helped bring a limp body onto the deck. The woman was quite pale and her hair appeared a shade of red Elizabeth had never seen before, as she got closer she saw it was because it was matted with blood.

By the cries of her new companions she knew this was Flora and Will’s mother.

“Ma!” Flora cried, trying to get nearer. But a man Elizabeth didn’t recognize gently stopped her. This must be Jonathon’s father by his civilian clothing.

“She’s alive, Flora,” He said, hugging her. “But she’s got a bad bump about her head so you can’t touch her just yet. Be still now and stay with your brothers, I need to go with your ma.”

As Elizabeth heard Flora beg to go with him, she saw her own father the governor approaching her and gently took her aside, “Elizabeth, I want you to accompany the children while their parents are busy with the doctor. I’ll trust them to be in your charge, to take care of them.”

She looked from Flora, sniffling as her mother was carried away, to Jonathon who watched his father run after the men who carried his injured wife down below, to poor Will who was just now stirring beneath his blanket, unaware of anything taking place around him. She nodded vehemently to her father, accepting the task he was charging her with proudly. He rarely gave her anything important to do and would prove to them all she was worthy of it.

Smiling down at his child, sure that she would be kept busy and thus keep these poor young castaways busy as well, he walked over to Lieutenant Norrington to find out the status of any of other survivors.

Elizabeth didn’t realize she was squeezing the medallion into her palm so hard it was leaving an impression. She took a few steps back and turned toward the ship’s stern, taking the medallion out one more time to look at it. If Will and his family were pirates, then they certainly didn’t act like it. While she thought it might be exciting to meet one she always pictured the pirate would be older, dressed more raggedly and probably very far away from her. But from what she could tell the whole family was kind. Maybe they gave up the life of piracy and were trying to start anew. Or maybe they weren’t pirates at all, but then why have a pirate medallion?

Either way, if Lieutenant Norrington saw this he may arrest them all and Elizabeth couldn’t bare her new companions to be sent to the hangman’s noose. So as the scary little gold skull stared back at her she vowed that she would do exactly as her father charged her to: take care of them.

As she put the medallion down, already thinking of good hiding places for it, she was shocked to see one skull replacing another. There, creeping about the mist and disappearing as silently as she came, was a ghastly site. A ship stained almost black, matching the same color as it’s tattered sails which somehow carried it at an uncanny speed away from the Dauntless. On top of the mast was a black jolly roger flag, its grinning face matching the one on the medallion.

A sinister feeling came over not only Elizabeth, but soon over all four of the children on deck, enveloping each of them slowly. It caused Elizabeth to shut her eyes and will the ghost ship away. It roused Will from his watery sleep, but in his delirious state he would chalk the ship up to a bad dream. Jonathon would see it out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he did a double take to look back it was gone, far too quickly for him to believe it had really been there. And Flora would see it through the tears welling up in her eyes, but upon blinking to let them cascade down her cheeks, it was gone.

And it would be another eight years before they ever spoke of, and saw, that dark ship again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I captured a young Elizabeth well. I wanted to really capture the bond children can have with one another in the face of trauma. Also I'd always wondered why they never addressed Elizabeth seeing the Pearl sail away from the wreckage more in the film. 
> 
> I love themes of childhood and imagination, especially how it sadly wains the more we grow up and how humans (especially young adults) react to change. I wrote a lot of essays and discussions involving it back in school and I feel it's why I was drawn to books like Peter Pan and even Stephen King's IT, which address adults questioning events from when they were kids


	3. Eight Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight years later, a strange dream about a ship with black sails brings a foreboding sense of unease amongst a few residents of Port Royal

Elizabeth Swann, a woman of nineteen, awoke with a start. She hadn’t had a dream like that in years, and for a moment she thought she was a child again onboard the grand ship that brought her and her father from England. But the dimming candle on her nightstand, the intricate one located next to her large, soft bed, told her she was in her home. In Port Royal.

She rose, picking up her candle holder, before making her way over to her vanity. Opening the left drawer, she was amazed at how after all these years she still remembered exactly where she’d hidden it. Pulling the few items out of the drawer revealed a false bottom, and upon removing it she saw it. The medallion.

Disturbing it revealed the layer of dust that had gathered on and around it, and using her thumb she cleared it off to reveal a trail of shine. The grin of the skull and the primitive markings surrounding it had alarmed her as a child, but now just fascinated her. She walked to her mirror and put it on, something she had only done once before just after she’d taken it off Will. Her imagination had gotten the best of her and she’d barely had it upon her neck for a minute before she ripped it off again. Mr. Gibb’s words of bringing pirates down upon them had filled her little head.

Now staring at her reflection in the mirror, all she felt was guilt. That must have been what the dream was about. After all, why else would such a memory resurface and twist into such a nightmare if not to remind her that she should have returned it years ago?

A knock at her door startled her, her father’s voice called out. “Elizabeth?” She turned, knocking down her chair in the process to reach for her dressing gown. “Are you alright?” Another knock. “Are you decent?”

Frantically pulling the dressing gown over her shoulders she stuffed the medallion down her nightdress, “Yes,” she said, finally concealing it before calling out a bit louder, “Yes!” The door opened to reveal her father, but it wasn’t him that she worried about concealing the medallion from.

Flora Turner and another maid, Estrella, followed her father and began getting Elizabeth’s room ready for the day.

“Still abed at this hour?” Her father chuckled when Elizabeth winced at the sudden onslaught of sunlight invading the room.

“Beautiful day,” Flora commented over her shoulder as she opened the balcony doors, revealing a glorious view of the harbor.

Her father pointed to a box Estrella was holding, “I have a gift for you.” He removed the lid and handed it to Flora. Elizabeth saw it was intricate fabric and lace and pulled it out to reveal a cream colored dress.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” She beamed, holding it up to admire it. “May I enquire as to the occasion?”

“Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter?” He raised an eyebrow and she laughed. He then indicated for the maids to help her get the dress on behind her privacy screen.

Stripping herself of her night clothes, Elizabeth held her arms up for Flora to replace them with a chemise while Estrella produced the bone corset that came with the dress. Wincing at what was to come, Elizabeth braced against Flora as her friend took a hold of her hips to keep her centered; Estrella started to pull and lace the corset tightly.

Flora always told Elizabeth she was glad the labor of her job meant she was afforded the luxury of wearing a corset with less binding cloth and no bones.

“Actually, I had hoped you would wear it to the ceremony today?” Governor Swann’s voice came from the other side of the screen.

‘Ceremony?’ She mouthed to Flora, who whispered back, “Captain Norrington.”

“Commodore Norrington, he’s about to become,” the Governor corrected, having heard the whispering.

Elizabeth’s head peeked from behind the screen. “I knew it!” Before being tugged back by Flora.

“A fine gentleman, don’t you think?” Governor Swann added. “He fancies you, you know.”

Flora wasn’t sure if it was Estrella’s particularly hard tug on the corset or the reminder of the affection James Norrington had on Elizabeth that caused the loud gasp to escape her mistress’s mouth. Either way Flora mouth ‘sorry’ to her friend.

“Elizabeth? How’s it coming?” her father asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” Elizabeth huffed out.

“I’m told it’s the latest fashion in London.”

Flora leaned forward, whispering, “Well women in London must have learned not to breathe.” Elizabeth tried to laugh but found her she couldn’t and instead grasped at her chest. Governor Swann gave an affectionate huff when he heard the two girls giggling.

In the privacy of this room, in this house, Governor Swann allowed this. Outside these mansion walls lay the real world where social status and class dictated every part of his and his daughter’s life. But Flora was more than a maid, she was Elizabeth’s friend and confidant. The past eight years they’d been brought up as if sisters despite everything, but it was all on their own doing. Neither of their father’s could have prevented their bond since that fateful day they’d been rescued at sea.

Upon learning that Ramsay McAdams had been a footman back in England, Governor Swann had quietly quizzed him on his duties and experience as a way to pass the time while waiting for his wife to recover on the ship. They’d had a week until reaching Port Royal and the Governor knew it to be his duty to make sure this family be settled since they would be arriving with practically nothing; all their possessions now lay at the bottom of the ocean.

Swann had been impressed with the air of dignity Ramsay kept about him. Once his wife seemed out of danger and asleep he’d come to the deck to inquire about the location of his children. A few hours before a sailor had escorted the gaggle of them below deck, and since Governor Swann had told his daughter to accompany them he assumed she was with them as well. After telling the sailor to bring the children to the deck, Ramsay had immediately bowed and thanked Swann for everything they’d done for him and his family thus far.

The children ran onto the deck, and the two men were taken by surprise that young Flora was wearing one of Elizabeth’s dresses. Elizabeth had promptly explained that her dress was taking too long to dry and since she couldn’t hang it up outside to dry with risk of the wind taking it away, or worse, “a sailor coming upon a young lady’s unmentionables,” Elizabeth deemed it only proper Flora borrow one of her dresses until her clothes dried.

Swann laughed at the look on young Will and Jonathon’s faces when they added that they were perfectly fine in their semi-dry clothes and did NOT take up Elizabeth’s offer to to partake in her wardrobe as well. Jonathon was the only one wearing a complete set of shoes. Will wasn’t wearing any when he was found, and Flora had lost one to the sea and left the other below deck since Elizabeth’s were too small.

Ramsay had pulled Flora to him and attempted to tame her mess of hair that had dried in the most horrific way with the salt water and wind. He gave up and said he’d help her sort it out before bed, before reminding her the moment her dress was dry she had to give Elizabeth hers back. “Yes, Pa.” She nodded and then all four of the children went to look out by the bowsprit.

“So you get ‘Pa’,” Governor Swann commented, before looking back to the children. “I get ‘Father’ more than anything, but once in a while I get a ‘Daddy’ when she wants to be particularly sweet. I’d say enjoy it while it lasts, but I don’t think I have to remind you how precious the time with our children are.”

Ramsay nodded, “Nay, Governor, you certainly don’t. I’ve barely been the twins father for a few months. I’d be happy with anything they’d deem to call me at this point.”

And so Governor Swann learned the story of the Turners and the McAdams, about their journey to becoming a family and their plan to go to the Carolinas. How they hadn’t had a guarantee of work yet but Ramsay’s aunt had written to a distant relative who would put them up for the time being. And it was then Governor Swann, whose gaze went back to his daughter and her new companions, with their little bare feet and haunted eyes, came up with an offer to Ramsay.

Now eight years later, Governor Swann heard a knocking on the open door as Ramsay announced himself. He wore a white wig and was impeccably dressed, his position as butler to a governor proudly reflected in everything from his dress to his posture.

“My Lord, you have a visitor.”

Flora heard her step-fathers voice and the governor excused himself to see to his guest. Once both men had left she knew it was safer to speak freely as Elizabeth got dressed.

“Tell me the truth,” Flora said. “How much does it hurt to breathe?”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, “I’m sure it will be fine. As long as I don’t strain myself I should be able to survive the afternoon.” They buttoned her dress up, which was just as tight and offered no relief. Estrella held Elizabeth’s hand as Flora helped her step into her shoes and then the other maid collected her night gown to put away. Noticing Flora had yawned twice in the past few minutes she asked, “Late night?”

“Actually, no. Joanie spent last night at Will’s so I didn’t have to deal with kicking feet for once,” Flora was referring to her eight-year-old sister.

Joanie was the surprise no one had seem coming. A week before their ship sank Ramsay had noticed Helen had gotten seasick quite quickly and often. When Helen had been rescued she had been found wedged between a splintered opening in the hull, a head wound that had only reduced in bleeding due to the fact that the water was so cold that it slowed down her blood flow. The downside was she became more susceptible to sickness after being exposed to the elements with open wounds for so long.

So imagine their surprise when just weeks after their arrival in Port Royal Helen was told she was pregnant. The midwife was concerned because Helen was more prone to fainting spells and any mild sickness quickly turned to her being bedridden. But Joanie had been born healthy, the final child she and Ramsay would ever bring into this world.

In fact, it was the birth of their shared daughter that made them forever shelf any further discussion of leaving Port Royal. Ramsay had been offered a position on the Governor’s staff and their other children had already grown attached to the settlement and the people.

But as Joanie grew into a precocious little girl her mother grew weaker, the last bit of strength slowly being lost with each passing year. It was after a particular bad bout of coughing that Helen felt the disease move to her lungs and never leave. She would cough blood into her handkerchief and be remanded to her bed for weeks on end, her body slowly wasting away.

Her suffering ended two years ago. And so Joanie was raised primarily at the governor’s mansion in the servant quarters, or with Will at the smithy.

“You work too hard,” Elizabeth said as Flora made sure Elizabeth’s hat was tied and pinned to her head. They’d finally gotten her hair curled and styled correctly. Ever since Helen died her daughter had shouldered many of the responsibilities she had, including making sure her brothers and sister were seen to.

But Flora just shrugged it off, “Actually I was awoken by a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I just got up and made sure Jonathon made it to breakfast on time for once.” She shook her head; Jonathon would sleep all day if they let him. But since he was one of the gardeners for the property it was better to get work done before the sun rose too high and bore down on them.

As she turned to start making Elizabeth’s bed, Flora didn’t notice her mistress had turned to look at her quite warily. Tucking in the sheet she barely heard Elizabeth ask behind her, “What did you dream about?”

___________________________

No matter how often he found himself in the governor’s mansion, whether as a guest or on an errand, Will never quite felt like he belonged there. Strange, considering he had lived with his family in the servant’s wing the first two years they’d been in Port Royal. But when it came time for him to take up a trade, he found he couldn’t see himself being a servant in such a fine house for the rest of his days. He wasn’t like his step-father and sister, he liked working with his hands and being creative. He was afraid to tell that to his step-father at first, not wanting him to think he looked down on his chosen profession, but Ramsay had merely sighed and said, “As long as you don’t end up a sailor. Now that would break your poor mother’s heart.”

But Will could laugh at the irony now, because while he would rather eat dirt than ever step on a ship again, it was his very own son Ramsay now had to convince to keep to dry land. Jonathon had begun expressing inclinations to join the Royal Navy for the past year, and the whole family could tell he was restless. He didn’t shirk his duties around the grounds though, never would he be so irresponsible. Hard physical labor kept him busy, though his thin frame didn’t portray that to outsiders.

Will had waved to his brother as he walked up the path to the mansion, and then had to promptly keep Joanie from dropping his packaged order when she too tried to wave. Jonathon was crouched down on the side of the house, his sleeves rolled up as he was putting down starts that had finally been mature enough to planted outdoors. He’d laughed at Will’s panicked look when Joanie almost dropped the long box that was probably 2/3 her height. Of course he’d probably smeared dirt on his face from where he’d tried to stifle it.

Jonathon noticed Will had donned his Sunday clothes. He was offered room and board in the little loft above the smithy when he’d started his apprenticeship at age fourteen, but still came home to spend nights when Mr. Brown allowed it. Though Will found it was quite easy to leave whenever he pleased because Mr. Brown was more drunk than not these days. For instance, the man was currently in so deep a stupor that he had not realized Joanie had spent the night upstairs with Will. Or the that she’d been down there playing with the mule, Bessie, last week. Or that she was the one more often than not putting blanket on him when he’d passed out in his chair.

Ramsay answered the door with a smile for his little daughter and step-son and went to fetch Governor Swann. The downstairs was so quiet as Joanie made a show of behaving, trying to prove to Will she could be a good assistant. But soon she grew tired and Will said it was okay for her to sit on the window sill with the long box in her lap until they had to present it. She kicked her feet while Will examined a candelabra on the wall. One of the candleholders was askew and he went to correct it. But a small ‘clang’ reverberated around them, startling the pair as it came loose into Will’s hand.

Panicking, Will quickly looked around while Joanie gaped at him. Upon hearing footsteps, he hastily stuffed it into the umbrella stand next to them, straightening up just in time for one of the other servants, George, to walk past them. The footman frowned down at them as Joanie couldn’t contain her giggles at the ridiculousness of it all. Will put a finger to his mouth, trying to shush her.

Governor Swann at that moment came down the stairs, Ramsay behind him before the butler nodded and went off to perform his other duties. “Ah, Mr. Turner. Good to see you again.” Joanie stood up and curtsied, handing Will the box.

“Good day, sir. I have your order,” Will put the box down on the table and opened it, revealing a most beautifully crafted sword. He took it out and presented it to the governor, who unsheathed it, taking it in. “The blade is folded steel. That’s gold filigree laid into the handle. If I may?”

The governor handed the sword to Will, who used two fingers to hold the sword up at the hilt. “Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade.” He then flipped the sword upright, catching it again to present it back to the governor, who was taken aback by the skill the Turner boy demonstrated at handling the weapon.

Will had let Joanie balance it like that back at the smithy just before he gave it the final polish, though it took almost all four of her fingers to hold the blade up, her hand being too small and all.

“Impressive, very impressive.” Governor Swann examined the sword again with new light.

“Quite profound as well,” Joanie’s high pitched voice piped up. Will paused a moment, hoping his sister had not caused offense by interrupting.

The governor raised an eyebrow, “Profound you say?” He humored the girl.

“Miss Elizabeth taught me that word, Governor,” Joanie said proudly.

Governor Swann chuckled, “Did she now? Well you are quite impressive as well, Miss McAdams. And I think Commodore Norrington is going to be very pleased with this.” He handed the sword back to Will for it to be placed back in it’s box, the boy barely containing his proud smile.

“Do pass my compliment’s onto your master,” He told Will.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Will’s face for just a moment, however briefly, before he recovered. “I shall. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated.”

They heard more footsteps coming down the stairs, and they three looked up to find Elizabeth making her way down in her new dress, all made up for the ceremony. Her father appraised her, “Elizabeth! You look absolutely stunning.”

“And quite profound!” Joanie said again. She would use her new favorite word until one of the adults told her to stuff it.

“Will,” Elizabeth greeted with a sweet smile, just for him. “So good to see. I had a dream about you last night.”

“About me?” Will flustered, completely taken aback.

Joanie however, wasn’t, and instead asked eagerly, “Was I in it too?”

The governor’s eyes widened at his daughter and he tried to steer this conversation away from the two, “Is this entirely proper—”

But Elizabeth tried to ignore her father, “About the day we all met, do you remember? It was before you were born, Joanie.”

“How could I forget, Miss Swann?” That was the day he thought he’d died, drowned in the ocean only to wake up in heaven with a tiny angel looking down upon him. But that angel turned out to be something better, it was Elizabeth, the girl who’d spotted and saved him. And he’d grown fonder of her each passing day.

“Flora had a similar dream as well. And how many times must I ask you call me Elizabeth?” She asked hopefully. Over the last couple of years he wouldn’t call her by her first name, even in private. Though Elizabeth could not honestly remember the last time they’d been alone together, just talked without any of his siblings or her chaperones to interrupt them. They’d been quite close as children, and she longed for that sort of companionship again. Though at this point she was sure ‘companionship’ wasn’t the word she would use.

But it was Will who would always remember his place. It was below hers, always a step down and just out of his reach. He begrudgingly would accept it. “At least once more as always, Miss Swann.”

“There now,” Governor Swann, exclaimed. Quite proud and relieved in Mr. Turner’s response. “At least the boy has a sense of propriety.”

Will tried to ignore the hurt look that came across Elizabeth’s face before she straightened with the steel he knew she was made of. “Good day, Mr. Turner.”

The governor motioned for his daughter and his entourage to follow him to the carriage where they would make there way down to Fort Charles to watch the promotional ceremony, and where Governor Swann knew the newly appointed Commodore would have an important question for his daughter. One he approved of but also hoped she would consider carefully. A question that he regretfully knew would hurt the young man he saw pulled out of the ocean all those years ago.

Ramsay had followed the entourage to close the door behind them, but before he could Will had stepped out and onto the front steps, just in time to catch Will whisper, “Good day…….Elizabeth,” as the door shut.

He watched her step into the carriage, the door being closed behind her. She looked back at him through the window as the horses started carrying them down the lane and past the gates of the grounds. When she looked away he kept his gaze upon the carriage until it disappeared out of sight. Oh how he wanted more than anything to shout her name, as many times as she wished it. To smile at her freely and tell her how beautiful he thought her, how kind she was and what light she brought to his life by simply existing.

To tell her that he had, in fact, had a strange dream the night before. About the day they met.

________________________________

Jonathon waited until the carriage was out of view and saw the dopey smile on his step-brother’s face. He picked up a small pebble and tossed it at him, it hitting Will in the arm.

“Ack!” Will startled, looking at Jonathon accusingly

“You’re an idiot!” Jonathon half whispered, half yelled.

“You’ve got dirt on your face!” Will retorted, pleased when Jonathon went about trying to wipe it off, only making it worse.

Both jumped when the door suddenly opened to reveal Flora, carrying a basket and grasping Joanie by the hand. Joanie was currently preoccupied with stuffing a scone into her mouth.

“You didn’t feed her this morning!” Flora accused Will

“No but I did water her. And look, she’s growing like a weed.” Will was loath to admit it but he had neglected to give Joanie anything for breakfast. He was too preoccupied trying to make him and her look presentable for their brief audience with Governor Swann. Joanie could barely be talked into keeping her cap on her head on a good day.

He was saved from any further inquisition from Flora when she turned to Jonathon and saw the state of his face. She produced a handkerchief and began getting off the dirt he had missed earlier. Jonathon pretended to hate being fussed over but Will knew he secretly enjoyed it.

“There, I can see a face under there now. What would any Navy man think seeing the state of you if you’d gone to talk to them looking like a right ruffian?” Flora didn’t see Jonathon pocket the handkerchief as Will looked at them both quizzically.

“Navy men?” He asked

“With the ceremony going on most of them will be at the fort. But I know a couple of men will be patrolling at the docks. I wanted to go talk to them and maybe get some feelers out there, wonder if I really want to join up in the end,” Jonathon explained.

Will nodded, understanding why he needed to look his best. If Jonathon was serious he’d need to make a good impression with them. ‘But wait….,’ Will thought.

“If all the important officers are going to be at the fort, who are you going to talk to—oh no,” Will concluded. “Murtogg and Mullroy? Them?!”

Jonathon nodded, “They’re not that bad.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself on the matter. Yes, the two members of the King’s Navy were bumbling and a bit of a laughing stock amongst some of the officers, but they were good men at heart.

Plus, if THEY got into the Navy then by all means Jonathon could as well.

“I like Murtogg and Mullroy,” Joanie declared, taking the last bite of her scone. “They’re always nice to me.”

“Which is why you get to go with Jonathon to visit them,” Flora kissed the top of Joanie’s head and pushed her over to Jonathon.

“What?” Jonathon paled, “I want to impress the Navy. How am I to do that if I’m babysitting?”

“By taking these with you,” Flora handed him the basket of scones. “They’re raisin flavored. It’s their favorite.”

Over the past few years Flora herself had proven to be just as good a cook as their mother Helen. It wasn’t a strenuous activity that Helen could enjoy the last few years of her life, and Flora was right there beside her learning all she could. And thankfully being in a house as prosperous as the governor meant that there were often leftovers, which Flora would often hand deliver to her friends in town. And it was true what they said, the way to a man’s heart was through their stomach, so Flora quickly learned which important men liked scones, pies or breads. It made it easy to make friends and get invited to events, something Flora always enjoyed.

And though Will knew it embarrassed her, he continued to tease her about how many of the single men at the fort had probably fallen half in love with her at this point. She was not only a good cook but was quite funny and charming to talk to. Of course the man who loved her by much, much more than half was currently holding a basket of scones in one hand and a squirming eight-year-old girl in the other.

Jonathon wined, “Can’t you come as well?”

She shook her head, “No, I’ve got too much to do before lunch. Speaking of which, are you joining us?” She asked Will, who shook his head. He had too many orders to complete. “Right, I’ve got to finish a few things and then I need to run to the market. I’ll drop something off for Will to eat and I’ll stop by the docks on the way to take Joanie back if you’re still there.”

Knowing he wasn’t getting out of this, Jonathon resigned his argument and started making his way with Joanie into the direction of town. Flora called out to them, “Joanie, you be good and mind Jonathon! He’ll tell me if you don’t! Eldest says.”

Will laughed at that last statement. Ever since they had been small if they’d ever argued over something, whether it be mundane in taking the left or right path home, or something important like what to get someone for Christmas, if one of them said “eldest says” it was just as good as King George himself declaring it. Of course it was Will, being two minutes older than Flora, who got to wield that power. And then when Jonathon came along and Flora got use it over him. And when Joanie was born and so on and so forth.

She sighed as she watched them walk away. To some she would come across as bossy when it came to Jonathon and Will, after all they were all raised together as siblings, but she meant well. She wanted what was best for Jonathon and was trying to be encouraging of him following his heart. He wanted to travel, to see the world, and the Navy would be the best and most respectable way to do that.

Even if it gutted her for him to leave them.

Neither were sure when things began to change between them. Jonathon had always had a soft spot for Flora even before her father died and they were merely playmates. But she chalked it up to him being one of her best, closest friends. When their parents married nothing really changed, except that they now lived in the same house.

After they’d settled in Port Royal, life picked up right where they’d left off, except now they had Elizabeth and soon baby Joanie in their little circle. When Elizabeth could escape her governess all four of them would often walk to the docks and take in the ships, or play hide-and-seek in the back garden or tag by the rows of hanging laundry. This was an exciting new environment for all of them and there were people to meet, trees to climbs, and tropical mountains to conquer.

Days in the sunshine, that golden childhood they all had together seemed to last a lifetime, but in the blink of an eye had suddenly changed. Flora wondered if Will’s love for Elizabeth had suddenly been realized one day, or if he’d always known.

If one were to ask Jonathon, he would say that he’d known since the day they’d met that he’d wanted to marry her, even as a little boy. If anyone asked Flora she would say it was about two years ago she realized just how in love she was with him. It was Flora and Will’s birthday, their first since their mother had passed away, and that night when she’d gone to bed she’d found a handkerchief tied up in a bundle on her pillow in the servant’s quarters. Untying it she’d found a long string of small, delicate shells strung together. Upon closer look every half a dozen shells or so was an off-pink one. From far away they could be mistaken for pearls. It was long enough that it could be worn around the neck or wrapped a few times as a bracelet.

It was such a lovely surprise, but it wasn’t the thoughtful gift that made her begin to tear up. She recognized where these shells had come from. A month before the consumption took her, Helen had requested to be take down to the shore, a quiet little place she used to take the children for a walk on nice days. They’d take off their shoes and stockings and kick the crystal blue water at each other. Now at the end of her life her children were the ones to take her down there.

Helen was able to take her shoes off and dip her feet in the water one last time before exhaustion started in and she went to sit on the warm, sandy beach. Flora had packed them a light lunch and was lying on her side by her mother, while reading out loud from a book. Jonathon and Will, sixteen and seventeen years old respectively, had Joanie between them and were swinging her up in the air by her arms each time a wave came past them.

And like every other time they’d gone to the beach with their mother, they collected shells. Helen only wanted the tiniest little pink and white ones, ones that stood against the harsh dark wood of the furniture they used as a focal point to brighten up the space. They’d be piled in a little mound on a table, or anything that acted as a vanity. Joanie would use them to spell out words on a hard surface when she was learning her letters.

And after Helen died Jonathon had asked if he could take most of them. It was the only thing he’d asked of his beloved step-mother, the only mother he really remembered, and Ramsay had let him. Flora was saddened to see the pile of shells disappear from the nightstand but she never asked what he’d done with them.

But here they were, a collection of happy memories she could wear about her person, and at that moment not even the diamonds of King George’s crown could have compared to her a treasure so great as these. She had rushed out her room in the servant’s quarters, a room with about half a dozen small beds that housed her, Joanie and other female staff who lived in-house. Her father slept with in one of the rooms meant for male upper staff. But Flora made her way outside to the garden.

It was dark, the sun having just gone down, but the Caribbean sky gave her a pink hue at the horizon that would hide the blush she was sure consumed her entire face when upon finding the garden shed where Jonathon and one of the stable boys slept, she pulled him to her and kissed him soundly. It surprised them both, her boldness, having never given him anything but a kiss on the cheek before that.

He had been in the process of getting ready for bed, having taken off his vest when she’d come in. Upon seeing that Marcus, the stable boy wasn’t there, she came in. He saw she had put the shell necklace and before he could ask her if he liked it suddenly he was being kissed. And he was kissing her back. They were young and inexperienced, but it was a beautiful thing for anyone who could have witnessed, though that thought would have struck them both down dead with embarrassment if someone had. Within a few seconds it was over and then Flora rushed off back to her bed, and Jonathon was left blinking in the middle of the shed, wondering if what just happened was real.

Passing glances and a few more kisses were snuck in before Ramsay was eventually told. They both knew it couldn’t be hidden from him for long, so once they sure of their feelings they had to tell Jonathon’s father. Nothing improper had taken place, but Jonathon knew Flora was of the age where other men were starting to take notice of her and it would soon be time for Ramsay to consider marriage options. While it was a long way off, the thought of Flora being with another man absolutely devastated him.

Their step-father consented to the possibility of them getting married in the future, but not for a few more years and only after Jonathon made a decision about his future ambitions. The boy had inclinations to see life beyond Port Royal, but he didn’t want to say goodbye to his family forever. That also didn’t mean they could engage in any behavior that was deemed indecent, thought Ramsay didn’t worry too incredibly hard about that; they had been raised properly.

Part of Ramsay selfishly hoped that Jonathon would give up his dreams of joining the navy and stay in Port Royal. If he didn’t want to continue on working the grounds of the mansion then certainly Ramsay could arrange a less strenuous position in the home, a place he could work himself up, like Ramsay himself had. And Flora was a good girl, she worked hard and hadn’t spoken of any wants to leaving her position as a maid in the Swann mansion.

After the death of his wife he acknowledged that he lad leaned on Flora very hard for support, both emotional and obligational. He had a position to keep up as butler and Joanie had been left without a mother at age the tender age of six. Flora saw to her baby sister as well as her duties, and though Joanie could be a handful she could read and do her sums thanks to Flora and Elizabeth. The latter even rubbed off on Joanie in the ways of teaching her proper manners. He was ashamed to admit it but if Flora married his son and stayed here in Port Royal then Ramsay got to keep his little family together. He didn’t want to lose any of them.

But Jonathon straightened his back as he made his way to the docks. If the navy was truly for him, within a few years he could begin working his way up the ranks. He could provide a good life for Flora, make his family proud, and get to travel the world on a ship.

He shuddered at the thought of ships for a moment. But it quickly passed as he scanned the docks for Murtogg and Mullroy, and more importantly the HMS _Interceptor_ they were meant to be guarding. He didn’t know why, but for a moment he could have sworn that instead of the smaller, but deceptively fastest ship of the fleet, that he saw a ship with black sails. But he shook it off, probably just remnants from the strange dream he had last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they're grown up, yay! I want to go ahead and clear some things up for anyone who has a problem with Jonathon and Flora's relationship. They are not blood related, they were not raised from birth together, and they were never told they were brother and sister so get all ugly thoughts out your head now.
> 
> And if you're wondering why Ramsay is more accepting of the relationship than maybe someone in modern times would be, remember that this was also a society where distant cousins commonly married, and even first cousins in the more privileged class would intermingle. Ramsay thinks his step-daughter is a good person and hard worker, and the practical side of him sees him keeping an extra hand in his family as not only a good future daughter-in-law but also someone to help continue raising his youngest child. These were the times they lived in, but that didn't mean it was lecherous and disgusting. I'm trying to portray it in the same light as childhood best friends who grow to have romantic feelings for one another and I hope it comes across that.


	4. Mr. Smyth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth receives a proposal. Port Royal gets a mysterious visitor. And Jonathon and Joanie visit the docks

She. Could. Not. Breath.

Elizabeth fanned herself constantly, the heat of the Caribbean sun bearing down on the crowd not making it any more comfortable when she couldn’t even take a full breath. During the ceremony itself they at least got to sit, her and the other ladies and gentlemen of noble birth. She watched her father stand at the end of a long line of military men who parted like the Red Sea as their newly appointed commodore, James Norrington, made his way down the line.

Watching him proudly accept the position, and the sword her father had commissioned for the man of such an honorable post, Elizabeth shifted in her seat as the ceremony ended. But relief would not come. She was expected to stay and mingle with the rest of the attendees and officers. Hor d’oeuvres were offered on silver trays, and though Elizabeth knew she’d skipped breakfast after sleeping late, she couldn’t take a bite. She took a drink off a tray, thinking she would not be able to handle solid foods with her waist so constricted.

Recalling what Flora had whispered to her just before she left to go downstairs, “The moment you get home we are taking this off. I can tell this is torture for you. Fake being ill or say you want a bath, anything, just get this contraption off.”

Standing next to her father while he spoke to several men of importance, she saw James Norrington approach them out of the corner of her eye.

For the past year her father had subtly been hinting at James’s growing fondness of her, and when she couldn’t think of any reason to reject him as a possible suitor, her father took that as her consent of courtship. Elizabeth found herself in debt for the first time in her life in appreciation for the rules of propriety that the upper class were expected to follow. Not that she would have to worry about James being too audacious.

James Norrington was everything the Royal Navy could ask for: brave, neat, persistent, intelligent. He was proper and refined, everything befitting his station. Any woman would give her right arm if only James Norrington would take ahold of her left, and maybe even put a wedding ring on it. And thanks to Flora, Elizabeth knew he couldn’t resist plain scones with raspberry jam and cream.

Any time she saw them on a plate when it was afternoon tea, she knew James would be in attendance

She fanned herself harder as her father turned to give them privacy to speak, James lowering his face to ask, “May I have a moment?”

They walked over the to ledge of the fort, giving them an envious view of the bay of Port Royal. Though Elizabeth barely took it in, as those two step up to the viewing seemed to take all her strength suddenly. A rush of lightheadedness suddenly over took her and she fanned herself again to keep it at bay.

James cleared his throat, “You look lovely, Elizabeth.”

She smiled at him, leaning against the stone behind to support herself, but started grasping at her own waist trying to find relief.

“I apologize if I seem forward but I must speak my mind,” his hands clasped behind his back, his neckerchief perfectly tied. But he took a moment to seemingly collect his words. “This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved,” He turned to look at her, his eyes and voice finally softening, “A marriage to a fine woman.”

Turning her eyes up to his, she found herself seeing black spots in the corner of her eyes. “You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth.”

Her blood began pounding in her ears, and when she felt a cold sweat suddenly take over her face despite the sweltering Caribbean sun, she knew she was in trouble. She faintly gasped, “I can’t breathe!”

And for the first time in a long time, James Norrington miscalculated. He blushed and turned away, taking Elizabeth’s statement as demure. “Yes, I-I’m a bit nervous myself.”

Elizabeth grasped for a surface that wasn’t there behind, her whole world tilting as she everything went black and she fell over the edge of the fort. Her consciousness leaving her before she hit the waves below.

___________________

“Now again, tell me the rules of this visit,” Jonathon commanded of Joanie as they strolled down the dock. He heard the child sigh, but she complied.

“I am to be behave, I am to be quiet after saying ‘hello’, I am to make myself scarce until you tell me I can come back.”

“Because…..” he prompted.

“Because this visit is important—why is it so important, Jon?” She asked, looking up at him.

He sighed, “Because if I am to join the navy I need to know what the navy is looking for in young men. And to know that, I need to ask the men in the navy what they are looking. Don’t you want me to make a good impression?”

Pouting, she replied, “I don’t want you to go away with the navy. I’d miss you too much.”

“Oh now,” he softened, squeezing her hand. “I’d probably end up staying here at Fort Charles. And besides, even if I did have to go away it wouldn’t be forever. And wouldn’t you like it if I was sent to an exotic place like India, or maybe Africa? If I did, then that would mean I’d have to bring you and Flora lots of presents from there.”

“Presents!”

“Aye,” He chuckled, “If I went overseas what would you like?”

She thought about, “Mmmmmmm, an elephant!”

“A whole elephant?” He raised his eyebrows, but she nodded excitedly. “Well, it might be a bit hard to fit into my rucksack but I’ll certainly try. And only if you behave! Here,” he reached into the basket to take out two scones, “While I’m talking to Mr. Murtogg and Mr. Mullroy, if you find you want to come over and disrupt I want you to stuff one of these in your mouth and forget any thought of doing so.” She nodded and he put the scones in the pocket of her apron.

He found the two marines sitting under the dock, having grown a bit bored and with no civilians to chase off, they’d thought no harm in taking in the shade. At the sounds of footsteps, they did jump to attention only to look up and see Jonathon raise his hand in greeting, “Permission to come down the dock, gentlemen?”

They sighed and lowered their guns, worried for a moment one of the higher officers had come down to do an inspection. “Hello, young Jonathon.”

They’d known Jonathon ever since he and his family had been rescued by the _Dauntless_. Mullroy had been the one escort the children below deck while they waited for both young Will and his mother to wake up. And it was Murtogg who’d been ordered to retrieve them later that day when their father Ramsay had requested to see them. For the rest of the voyage Jonathon could be found underfoot of any marine he happened to come across, asking dozens of questions and wanting to help any way he could on the ship.

Ever since the then-Lieutenant Norrington had firmly told Jonathon that he needed to be brave, the boy had looked upon all those who wore the uniform with admiration. Murtogg and Mullroy knew that the other marines saw them as bumbling and unintelligent on their best days, but they still did their duty and followed orders no matter how dire the situation. And the pair had grown rather fond of the boy, especially his pretty step-sister Flora.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, as I’m sure you gentlemen are rather busy.” Jonathon knew they weren’t but he’d humor them. “I was hoping I’d just take a few moments of your time, if that’s okay.”

“You are certainly better company than some most days, Mr. McAdams,” Mullroy replied, and the hesitantly added. “But this dock is off-limits to civilians right now. Could get in real trouble if you two were here.” He saw Joanie had come skipping down the deck after her brother, carrying a basket.

“Real trouble indeed,” Murtogg said. “Is, um, your other sister here as well?”

“My STEP-sister,” Jonathon emphasized, not liking where some of these marine’s thoughts drifted to when concerning Flora, “Is hard at work today. But she did think that such hard working men as yourself deserve some home-baked goods. But if you are too busy and we will get you in trouble—” He made to take Joanie and walk back up the dock but was promptly called back.

“Well, if Miss Flora went through all the trouble of baking—” Mullroy said.

“And you walked all the way here—” Murtogg added.

“Are those…” Mullroy stopped and sniffed the basket before asking hopefully, “Scones?”

Joanie nodded, pushing the basket up further and almost stuffing Mullroy’s whole head inside. “Raisin scones!”

Knowing they’d be safe from any further objections, Jonathon and the marines took the basket before sending Joanie off to entertain herself. Sitting themselves down on some barrels under the dock, they each took a scone and Jonathon praised Flora for thinking to also pack a tiny container stuffed with fruit preserve to spread.

“Actually, if it eases your conscious, you might be happy to know I wished to speak you gentlemen about my status as a civilian. You see, I’ve been thinking more and more and about joining you fine fellows in the ranks…”

______________________________

‘So much for arriving in Port Royal covertly,’ Jack Sparrow thought, stepping onto the dock.

The little boat, more of a dingy with a mast in his opinion, had barely made it into the bay. But he had stood upon it like he was riding the the devil himself, full of confidence as the wind whipped his hair and clothes wildly. He ignored the stares of the men from other boats as he sailed—or floated—past them, before he glided onto the dock and stepped onto dry land.

He got past the harbor master and his young indentured boy. The old man turned around, scoffing at Jack, “Hold up there, you!” jack turned around, feigning indifference. “It’s a shilling to tie your boat to the dock,” They both looked at the submerged boat, only the top of its mast visible. “And I shall need to know your name.”

Jack produced a few coins from his pocket, “What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the name.”

The coins were put on the log book, out of sight of anyone else near that particular dock. The harbormaster snapped the book, and the coins, shut. He smiled thinly. “Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smyth.”

Jack clasped his hands in thanks to the man and continued on his way, snatching up a satchel from off of the podium, giving it a shake to hear the clank of coin. With the harbormaster’s back to him, he pocketed the coin and walked on.

As a man who had sailed the seas and lived on ships for most of his life, Jack prided himself on being able to look at a ship and be able to tell if there was something special about her. Maybe it was the sails and her aptitude for speed, or the size of the hull and how many guns she could carry. He knew, though, bigger didn’t always mean better, and sleeker didn’t always faster. But once he was on a ship, could run his hands along the railing and point the wheel in the right direction, he would know her true worth.

So as he stood concealed somewhat by some foliage on the shore of the bay, he considered the two ships. One was larger, anchored out in the middle of the bay, and the other smaller tied to to a dock. He swaggered his way toward the dock to get a closer look.

As he descended he saw the two redcoats sitting nearby at the last moment, but decided to going. ‘Walk like you belong’ was a motto that had gotten him out of many scrapes in his life.

But bugger it this was not one of them.

The two marines scrambled up, ran ahead and promptly planted themselves in front of Jack. The skinny one said, “This dock is off limits to civilians.”

The larger one stared ahead, but Jack could see his mouth un-tensing like he was trying to chew slowly. Jack had probably interrupted an impromptu lunch break.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately,” He tried to walk past them but they stepped in his way again. That’s when Jack saw out of the corner of his eye a boy, almost a man, staring from the barrels that the marines had quickly vacated. Jack eagerly pointed over, “Oh look, there’s one.”

The larger one, Mullroy, quickly swallowed the last of a scone, cleared his throat, and said. “He’s a possible recruit for His Majesty’s Royal Navy and is currently being informed of the duties and expectations of men who wear the uniform.”

Jack paused, “And what a fine honor that is, convincing young men to join your growing ranks. But apparently there is some high-toned and fancy to-do up at the fort, eh? How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen, and your recruit, did not merit an invitation?”

The skinny one, Murtogg, defended, “Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians.”

“It’s a fine goal, to be sure. But it seems to me,” He moved and they followed to block him, but he pointed to the ship he admired earlier anchored in the bay, “That a ship like that makes this one here a bit superfluous, really.” He was wheedling for information. If he couldn’t get on the ships he could at least learn from the marines who sailed them.

“Oh, the _Dauntless_ is the power in these waters, true enough. But there's no ship as can match the _Interceptor_ for speed,” Murtogg said proudly.

Well Jack knew that wasn’t true. There was one ship out there in these Caribbean waters that could outrun any ship, especially any belonging to the navy fleet, “I’ve heard of one, supposed to be very, nigh uncatchable. The _Black Pearl_.”

Mullroy chucked, “Well, there's no real ship as can match the Interceptor.”

Murtogg looked between Jack and Mullroy, “The _Black Pearl_ is a real ship.”

“No, it's not. “

“Yes it is, I've seen it.” “

“You've seen it?”

“Yes. “

“You haven't seen it.” Mullroy scoffed.

“Yes, I have.”

“You've seen a ship with black sails that's crewed by the damned, and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?”

“No.”

“No.” Mullroy seemed satisfied at proving his point.

“But I have seen a ship with black sails.”

“Where did you see it?” Jack had almost forgotten the boy in the barrels behind them. He wore a wide brimmed hat that shaded him, one meant for someone who worked on land and didn’t have to fight the wind of the sea. “Where did you see it?” He repeated urgently.

Seeing as how the three of them were now distracted on not only Murtogg seeing a supposed ghost ship but also the very existence of the vessel itself, Jack took the opportunity to quietly slip away to board the _Interceptor_. He bee-lined straight for the wheel, grasping a handle in each hand, getting a feel for her. Imagining that he was out at sea, finally tracking down his beloved ship and that mutinying sack of—

“Who are you?”

Jack startled, barely containing a yelp. Keeping one hand grasped on the wheel and another to his beating heart, he looked down to see a little girl sitting almost directly to his right. He would have tripped right over her had he approached the wheel from the opposite side. Her scrutinizing gaze almost made him feel unwelcome aboard the vessel, like he was a trespasser. Which, he supposed he was.

So he returned the accusatory gaze, shooting right back, “Who are you?”

“Joanie.” She said, like it was the obvious thing in the world.

“Smyth.”

The little girl stood, wiping off her little dress with one hand and holding what looked like a very worn-out cloth doll in the other. “Are you a sailor?”

“I sail,” Jack answered, looking around. Wondering who this child was and hoping he wasn’t about to be confronted with an angry mother at any moment. “I’m a captain, actually.”

“Of this ship?”

Jack shrugged, “Haven’t decided yet. Or better yet, this ship hasn’t decided yet.”

Staring at the way the man was almost lovingly touching the wheel, Joanie cocked her head. “How does a ship decide? It’s not a living thing.”

“Don’t think you’d understand. A ship is a home to people like me, and to have a home you’ve got to treat it with respect. Doesn’t your mother keep her house clean and warm, luv?”

The girl cradled her cloth doll like a baby, gazing down at it, “My ma’s in heaven with the angels. But my sister cleans our house. It’s a big house.”  
He winced, waiting to make sure the child wouldn’t start crying about her dead mother. When she proved to be content with her dolly he continued, “Well, when you keep your house clean and warm, treat it right as it were, it treats you right in return. But if you want a ship to be your home, you have to get to know it. Make sure it likes you, that you’re worthy to sail it.”

“Hmm,” the girl responded, though not quite understanding. She looked up at him, or more specifically what he was wearing. “I like your hat. May I wear it?”

“Absolutely not!” Jack sputtered.

“Why not?”

“Because it is a captain’s hat, and you, little dove, are not a captain,” He offered lamely, hoping she would run along soon. This was not how he had intended to spend his time while trying to commandeer a ship.

Come to think of it, he wondered what she was doing here. She said she lived in a big house, but the state of her clothes reflected someone of a working class family. That made him less nervous. Children of any station could be fickle creatures but the spoiled, silver spoon babes were downright unpredictable.

Undeterred, she stuffed her doll into her apron and produced something else. “If you let me wear your hat for a moment. You can have a scone.”  
She offered it to him quite enticingly and he cursed her for it. He had not had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon, and the simple little baked item may as well have been a feast. He decided to at least pretend to be uninterested.

“What kind?”

“Raisin.”

“Humiliated grapes that they be, I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

Taking the scone from her, he placed the hat on her head and told her that he had until he finished eating it to give it back to him. She acted as if he’d placed a bloody tiara on her head, the way her smile seemed crack her whole little face in half, revealing the one baby tooth she’d lost on the lower right side quite recently.

It covered her eyes, being sizes too big for her, but she grabbed what handles she could of the wheel and pretended to be sailing the ship. He heard her muttering little commands to her imaginary crew, and narrating an entire sea battle. Pushing the hat back off her eyes she conveyed to him her disappointment that she could not see over the top of the wheel.

Leaning down he grasped her about the waist with one arm in a half-handed embrace, and slid her up on his leg. Bending at the knee he placed his foot on the pedestal and sat her on his thigh. And while she was taking delight in having a perfect booster seat to see over the wheel, Jack Sparrow stuffed the last of the buttery scone into his mouth and licked the remaining crumbs off his fingers.

“HEY!”

“JOANIE!”

It was a strange sight indeed. One moment Jonathon was listening to Mullroy chastise Murtogg about believing in a mythical ship that was supposedly behind so many raids on settlements the past 10 years. And the next minute they’d turned to speak again with the stranger only to find he had vanished.

All three had turned to the Interceptor, and there he was.

At the helm of the fastest ship in the Caribbean

Holding his baby sister.

All three rushed up the gangplank, “You!” Mullroy yelled, “Get away from there! You don’t have permission to be aboard there, mate!”

The man had the audacity to look surprised he was being chastised. The marines held their bayonets and pointed them at him. The younger lad stepped forward to lower one of the weapons.

“Oi, be careful! Joanie is right there,” He turned to his sister next to the strange man, “Come over here, now!”

She quickly jumped off the man’s leg and dashed over to her brother, passing the man back his hat. He donned it again promptly.

“Sorry, it’s such a pretty boat. Ship!” He amended that last past. “Lass is fine, no harm done.”

Jonathon paled when he wondered if he meant Joanie hadn’t bothered him or the that man hadn’t tried anything with her. But Joanie, who he held against him as he stayed behind the marines, appeared unmolested and unbothered.

“What’s your name?” They demanded.

“Smyth. Or Smithy, if you like.”

Not buying the name at all, Mullroy asked, “What’s your purpose in Port Royal, Mr. Smyth?”

“Yeah, and no lies!” Murtogg said, keeping his weapon raised.

Well, then, I confess,” Jack said, “It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out.”

They all stared at him, Murtogg yelled, “I said no lies!”

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Jonathon.

“What’s ‘commandeer’ mean?” Joanie asked, but was ignored.

“If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us,” Mullroy said.

“Unless, of course,” Jack said, “He knew you wouldn’t believe the truth even if he told it to you,” He smirked.

But the marines needed convincing, and wanting to impress their young possible recruit, they demanded that Jack give proof he was telling the truth. Jack smiled at this, turning this interrogation of sorts into a chance not only to get himself out of being arrested, but also a chance to show off. And one thing a good pirate should always be counted is the skill to wave a good story.

And what a captive audience he had. Over the next several minutes he told them about an island he’d heard of thanks to a local fisherman in Tortuga, where a tribe of cannibals lived. As he regaled them descriptions of the painted bodies of the natives and how some of them had even sharpened their teeth, he found he’d missed this part of having a crew. But he had to remind himself that he’d have a crew again soon enough, just as soon as he had a ship. He told them how he’d arrived and been shot with a poisoned dart that made him sleep, and when he awoken the cannibals were getting ready to eat him. Jack and his audience had all taken seats at that point; the marines directly across from him and the lad and his sister sitting on a chest by the railing.

“But luck was on my side, just as one of them took this giant club and was getting ready to bash me head in—” Joanie gasped at that part, “An eclipse came over the sky. They all stopped and stared, some of them cried out and looked down at me in fear. Then their wise man came and untied me, saying that I was a god in fleshy form. And then they made me their chief—”

A large splash behind them broke the mood; all of them turning to stare behind them.

And from the top of the fort they heard a man yell, “ELIZABETH!”


	5. Swords Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is dragged from the water. The stranger's identity is revealed. Jonathon and Joanie take a tumble. Will and Flora are forced into a confrontation at the smithy. And something begins to make its way toward Port Royal

All five onboard the Interceptor stared in shock for a moment at the spot where a body had just hit the water.

“I think that was my mistress!” Jonathon’s voice rose in panic.

“Miss Elizabeth!” Joanie gasped.

Jack however, asked quite casually of the marines, “Will you be saving her, then?”

Mullroy lifted his hand, “I can’t swim!” Murtogg shook his head, indicating he couldn’t either. Jonathon though quickly started shrugging off his jacket.

“I can, hold on!” Once his jacket was shed he went for his shoes, he noticed Jack started removing his effects as well.

“Pride of the King’s Navy, you are,” he muttered to the marines, “Do not lose these!” He shoved his gun, belt and coat at the bumbling duo, plopped his hat back atop the wee lass’s head, and dove into the water. Jack thought the boy meant well but he didn’t look like a strong swimmer.

With Jonathon jumped in and disappeared after ‘Mr. Smyth’, the marines and Joanie waited apprehensively for them to resurface. But all were taken quite aback when suddenly a large pulse emanated from the very spot the girl disappeared beneath the waves, sending ripples out across the water and into the open ocean.

“What was that?!” Murtogg asked, quite alarmed.

“Was a sea monster; it gobbled them up!” Joanie said, pushing the hat back to uncover her eyes. She folded her arms on the railing, resting her chin atop them. Wisps of her hair that had been blowing in the wind suddenly stopped.

_______________

At the docks, the metal fittings and rope had been banging against the masts, stopped moving, causing the sailors to look up.

At Fort Charles the British flag suddenly fell, going limp.

Inside the jail was Chopper the dog, with the spare keys to the cells in his mouth. He froze, seeing the clouds rapidly begin to block out the sun through the tiny barred windows. The fur on his back went up and a low growl escaped him, his tail going between his legs as he fled to hide under a bench.

Further inland of Port Royal, an older dark-skinned woman was feeding her chickens. She frowned when the clucking suddenly stopped, all of them standing stock still. Suddenly, a weather vane near her turns, slowly at first but then sharply in the opposite direction.

Flora steps out the bakers with a wave to the matron inside. Next she has to go the center of town and pick up some vegetables before planning to head to the docks. The brim of her dormeuse cap flapped at a sudden uptake of wind, and for a moment she thought she’d lose the cap all together. Holding onto it, she turned to the direction of the bay, frowning at the fog that seemed to be materializing from the waters.

The sailors back at the docks feel the wind pick up again, blowing their ropes with more vigor.

The British flag at the fort picks up, this time in a different direction. The wind is now coming from the ocean, blowing something toward Port Royal.

And at the railing of the _Interceptor_ , Joanie’s sophic eyes turned toward the open ocean. A sinking feeling took over her stomach as the dark clouds arose seemingly from the horizon itself, rising like the tentacles of some primordial monster from the deep, reaching out to block the sun.

She shivered, but not from cold. Her young mind rationalized it as well as could be expected. Eyes fixed on the horizon at something none of them could see, she whispered, “More monsters coming.”

____________________

Kicking as quick as he could, Jack saw a figure sink to the sandy bottom of the bay. He heard a splash behind him, but focused on reaching for the young lady around the waist to haul her up. Her face was pale even under the water, giving her the appearance of a ghost. She was much heavier than he thought, and he barely broke the surface of the water before he was dragged back down. He saw the head of the boy bobbing above the water just yards from him, his arms actually carrying him quickly.

“Hold her, quick!” Jack coughed through water, “It’s the bloody dress.”

The boy swam over and took ahold the girl, using his feet to try and kick them both at head-level with the water, but soon felt what Jack was talking about. The material of the dress, especially waterlogged, was what helped sink her to the bottom of the bay so quickly. Jack quickly unbuttoned the dress and slipped it down her arms, releasing her of it and letting it sink.

The both of them held her up as they swam back toward the docks. When they got close the boy let go of her and swam ahead, climbing up the wooden and then leaning over to help haul the girl onto the dock. Footsteps bound toward them as Murtogg and Mullroy helped lay her out, brushing her wet hair out her face.

“It’s Miss Swann!” Jonathon yelled.

“Not breathing!” Mullroy yelled, trying to clear her airways. But ‘Mr. Smyth’ pushed him out the way, telling him to move. Producing a knife, he slits the corset she’s still wearing down the middle, ripping it away. He throws to Jonathon, who immediately looks shocked to be handling it.

The effect is instantaneous; Elizabeth’s eyes fly open and she began to cough up water, turning onto her side.

“I never would have thought of that,” Mullroy said.

Jack’s dreadlocks were heavy from the water, his entire being dripping. “Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore.” Suddenly something caught his eye. As the young lady below him caught her bearings he saw the bit of gold hanging from a chain around her neck. Picking it up he saw an image that had only been described to him on a venture he’d planned a decade ago, a little gold skull with Aztec motifs around the edges. Shocked, he fixed her with an astonished look, and asked quietly, “Where did you get that?”

Jonathon too had leaned down. He tried to get in Elizabeth’s line of sight, hoping her seeing a familiar face would calm her after nearly drowning. After almost drowning himself all those years ago, he remembered how comforting it was to see Will and Flora. But then his eyes too caught the medallion in ‘Mr. Smyth’s’ hands. A medallion he had had seen before.

Footsteps bounded toward them and suddenly a sword was pointed at Jack’s face

“On your feet,” Norrington commanded, taking in the unkempt stranger leaning over the barely dressed Elizabeth. Several other officers flagged him, their bayonets drawn.

Jonathon, Murtogg and Mullroy immediately stood up and straighter. Especially when Governor Swann pushed his way through the soldiers, reaching down for his daughter. “Elizabeth, are you alright?” He pulled his coat around her, draping her in it.

Stuffing the medallion down her bodice, she looked between her father and the stranger that had saved her, “Yes, I am fine.”

The governor looked over at Jack before they traveled to the familiar Jonathon, who was still holding the corset the pirate had thrust him. Seeing the aghast look on his employers face he dropped it immediately, his face aflame, before pointing accusingly at Jack.

“Shoot him!” Governor Swann ordered

“Father!” Elizabeth cried incredulously before turning her gaze toward Norrington, “Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?”

Norrington hesitated, calculating whether or not the stranger could be trusted. Jonathon, soaking wet and no shoes, decided to come to the man’s aide. “It’s true Commodore. He reached Miss Swann before I could, she was too deep in the water.”

After a moment Norrington nodded, the weapons were sheathed and put away. Jack clasped his hands in thanks toward the both of them.

“I believe ‘thanks’ are in order,” Norrington extended a hand out to the man who rescued the woman he cared so much about.

The stranger looked hesitant, gingerly reaching out to take the olive branch handed to him. He’d barely grasped the commodore’s hand when he was pulled forward, Norrington pulling up his sleeve to reveal the brand ‘P’ on his arm. “Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we,” he smirked, “Pirate.”

Governor Swann felt his next order quite justified, “Hang him.”

The commodore ordered another officer, Gillette, to fetch some irons. He pulled up more of the man’s sleeve to reveal a tattoo; a bird in flight over a setting sun. “Well, well. Jack Sparrow.”

Both Elizabeth and Jonathon perked up at that. When they had been younger they’d discovered a shared love of pirate lore and due to her station Elizabeth had been granted access to all kinds of books Jonathon could never dream up. In a secret clubhouse they’d constructed on the edge of the property, Elizabeth and he took turns reading from such books as ‘A General History of Pyrates’ where they’d marveled at captains like Edward Teach and terrifying ladies like Anne Bonny.

They’d also ‘borrowed’ books from Norrington’s personal collection on maritime and naval trade, which included the subject of a pirate’s code which fascinated the youngsters (“Who knew pirates actually had rules!?” He had exclaimed). And amongst the small booklets they were able to get their hands on was a rather large chapter on one Jack Sparrow.

Whom was standing feet away, all three of them sopping wet and surrounded by the Royal Navy.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please,” said Jack.

“I don’t see your ship,” Norrington looked around condescendingly, “Captain.”

“I’m in the market, as it were.” He replied, squinting.

“He said he’d come here to commandeer one,” said Murtogg

“Told you he was telling the truth,” Mullroy muttered to his friend before picking up Jack’s possessions from the dock and holding them up to the commodore, “These are his, sir.”

Jack looked on nervously as Norrington picked up each item to examine it, the pirate acting as if the man were handling irreplaceable treasure. Norrington took the pistol, looking over the powder horn. “No additional shots nor powder.”

Picking up a tiny black box revealed a compass that when turned this way and that did not move the needle, “A compass that doesn’t point north.” He then drew Jack’s sword half out the scabbard, smirking, “And I half expected it to be made of wood.”

Jack lowered his eyes, looking a bit embarrassed. Norrington concluded, “You are without a doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of.”

But then Captain Jack Sparrow’s dark eyes rose to meet Commodore James Norrington’s clear blue ones, and smugly pointed out, “Ah, but you have heard of me.”

Jonathon tried to bite the smile that rose at one corner of his mouth, wiping it away just in time for the commodore and the governor to miss it. Norrington grabbed Jack by the arm and started leading him away.

“Mr. McAdams,” Governor Swann addressed him. “I think it best you collect your shoes and go back home.”

He nodded and looked down respectfully, taking in his feet wearing nothing but stockings. Skimming past some of the soldiers he quickly crossed the gang plank onto the _Interceptor_. After putting on his shoes and stuffing his jacket and hat in Flora’s basket, he took Joanie’s hand and tried to discreetly leave with her.

It didn’t work. He saw the governor take in the young girl who was not supposed to be there and and clutching Jack’s tri-corn hat. Nervously, Jonathon heard the governor whisper quite aghast, “I’ll be having a word with your father about this. Both of you!”

Elizabeth watched Jonathon and Joanie scamper back up the dock, before throwing off her father’s coat and making her after Jack and Norrington, “Commodore, I really must protest! Pirate or not this man saved my life.”

Lieutenant Gillette was clasping Jack’s wrists in irons, and Elizabeth placed herself in front of them in a last ditch effort to save Jack’s life.

“One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness,” Norrington argued his logic.

“But it seems enough to condemn him,” Jack shot back.

“Indeed.”

Meanwhile as they neared the dry end of the dock, Jonathon was dragging his feet, not looking forward to what his father would say once Governor Swann told him where he and Joanie were found; specifically, whose company he and Joanie had kept all morning.

“Is he really going to tell Daddy on us?” Joanie asked nervously.

“Yes, he has to.”

The girl whined, “But why?”

“Because we weren’t actually allowed to be on that dock in the first place. And because I didn’t keep an eye on you like I was supposed to, you ended up being alone with him,” That part he knew would make his father furious. Maybe he could convince Joanie not to tell him that part, which reminded him. “That’s why we’ve got to go home and tell Da ourselves what happened. It’ll be better coming from us then the governor.”

“What if I tell him Jack was nice to me. I mean, he did save Elizabeth from the water. And he let me steer the ship. And look!” she put the hat back on her head, “He even let me wear his hat!”

He quickly went to try to snatch it off, but she leaned back, clutching it to her head and pouting. He said, “You can’t keep that. It belonged to a pirate and Da would rather have you whipped with a switch than keep it. Give it here.” Maybe he could throw it off the dock or into a pig pen along the way

“No, I like the hat!” Joanie raised her voice, taking a step away from him.

He groaned in frustration before reaching into Flora’s basket and taking out his hat, “You can wear this one for the rest of your life if you give me that one right now!”

She pouted and glared at him, but both quickly stopped to look back when they heard a great crash back toward the _Interceptor_. The siblings could not believe what they were seeing.

Jack Sparrow had escaped the soldiers and was swinging round and round the gantry. They heard what they assumed was Commodore Norrington yell “OPEN FIRE!” Shots were fired as the pirate landed on top of another structure, and using the chain that connected his manacles together, he slid down a a rope that connected all the way to the end of the dry end of the dock……..

…..and right toward Jonathon and Joanie.

So taken in they were by the spectacle of his escape, they didn’t realize they were now in the pirate’s sights. So when Jack Sparrow let go of the rope and landed just feet from them, he didn’t break the momentum and kept running. Jonathon stepped sideways on the dock and pulled Joanie with him, watching as the pirate reached for them.

For a moment he was terrified that he was going to grab Joanie or take them hostage. But instead Jack snatched his hat back off Joanie’s head with a “Mine!” and then grabbed Flora’s basket out of Jonathon’s hands with a “Not mine, but thanks!” And then shoved the two of them right off the dock and into the knee-deep waters below.

It wasn’t that far of a drop, but he still lost his breathe a moment as Joanie landed on top of him. He was about to yell, or curse rather, at the pirate but then a hail of bullets flew past the very spot the pair had just occupied. Had Jack Sparrow predicted that and saved them? He wondered.

The boots of a dozen men bounded above them. Joanie looked down and grabbed her fallen cap from the water, the bottom and back of her dress absolutely soaked. They heard Commodore Norrington say above them, “Gillette, Mr. Sparrow has a dawn appointment with the gallows. I would hate for him to miss it.”

Norrington was ready to begin searching the entire town for the scoundrel when he looked down and saw the dock laden with what appeared to be baked goods. And then just to his left was a discarded jacket and wide brimmed hat. His heart spiked when he heard a child coughing and he, Gillette and the two bumbling marines from earlier raced to the side to see Jonathon and Joanie in the water peeking up at them.

“COMMODORE!” Joanie shrilled. The girl looked up to him, and with all the outrage of a woman several stations and many years higher than herself, she pointed in the direction Sparrow had run off and yelled, “He STOLE Flo’s basket!”

He couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped him. ‘That explains the scones about the dock,’ he thought. But he quickly let a frown mark his face again, remembering a pirate was loose on his citizens. That included people like Miss Flora, whom he knew a lot of his men had a tender spot for.

He motioned to Murtogg and Mullroy behind him and ordered, “Pull them out of there. And get them home!”

__________________

The uneasy feeling didn’t leave Flora as she bundled her vegetables in next to her bread, the basket getting a bit heavier. She’d had just picked up the cheese the governor had ordered when she saw Will making his way up the road. He saw her and ran over, taking the basket from her since he had free hands after making his last delivery.

“Any idea as to what’s happening?” Flora asked, seeing another round of marines run down the street. Will shook his head.

“Not a clue. Are you heading back to the house?”

“I’m going to stop by the docks and see of Jon and Joanie are there. If not, then yes. Are you free to walk with me?” She asked.

“Of course,” he offered her his arm and they made their way in the direction of the bay. They were almost run over by another couple of marines as they sharply turned a corner. They took notice that they were occasionally checking street carts and hidden nooks. Will huffed, “What are they looking for? Is this some sort of training exercise?”

He noticed Flora stiffen and stop walking, before letting out an annoyed huff, “No, I don’t think it is.”

Will stopped and looked where Flora’s eyes were fixed, his eyes widening as he saw his siblings being escorted by two marines flanked on either side of them. Joanie was wringing water out of the bottom of her dress, the string of her cap tied around her neck and letting her hair go everywhere. Jon was just as wet and twice as miserable looking, holding his coat a bit away from him since it seemed to be the only dry thing about him.

“What happened!” Flora yelled, and Will would have laughed at the guilty look that came over the four of them, the marines included, if the concern didn’t just slightly outweigh the hilarity.

Joanie ran to Flora, shouting something about a pirate stealing her basket. Jonathon and the marines tailed behind her. Flora held her away slightly to examine the girl, making sure the girl wasn’t hurt, but also to keep her from getting Flora too wet as well. “Why are you both wet?”

And so they were told of Elizabeth’s fall from the fort, which had both Flora and Will aghast, and of Jonathon and a stranger they’d met at the docks jumping in to get her. Murtogg and Mullroy confirmed everything and the told them how the pirate threatened Miss Elizabeth after Jonathon and Joanie had walked away. Will had never looked more furious in his life, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight as he tried to contain it.

“Is she okay?” Flora asked, her concern for friend rising each passing moment. Almost drowning and then being threatened by a pirate all in a matter of minutes? That had to be terrible.

“She alright, once the pirate got his effects he pushed her back toward the commodore and her father to distract us,” Mullroy said.

Only the marines had been around for that part, so the young family listened aptly to them recounting it. “And that’s when swung his way down the dock and ran into town.”

“But he pushed Jon and I off the dock, after taking your basket and his hat back!” Joanie pointed out, still quite cross about it.

“Why did you have his hat?” Flora asked, confused.

“He let me wear it because I gave him a scone.”

Will whipped his face around to look at Jonathon, “And where were you?!”

“Oi, I didn’t know he was a pirate,” He then pointed at Murtogg and Mullroy, “THEY didn’t even know he was a pirate!”

The marines did have the good sense to look guilty, Murtogg saying, “We’re terribly sorry. He proved to be a right scoundrel he did.” Mullroy then added, “The scones were much appreciated, and delicious, Miss Flora, it as very kind of you. We shall be on the lookout for your basket, miss!”

“We should be on the lookout for the pirate! Jack Sparrow” Jonathon retorted.

Arching an eyebrow, Flora asked, “I’m sorry, ‘we’?”

“I want to help search for him.”

“Absolutely not!” Flora was trying not to act like an older sister right now, but he was making it hard. She wasn’t his wife; he couldn’t tell him what to do. But Lord help her sometimes she wanted to smack some sense into him. She looked at the two marines, “Thank you for returning them to us. We’re going home now, good luck to you.” The two nodded and left, trotting off to join the rest of the officers.

“We should go to the smithy,” Will offered after a moment. They all looked at him, wondering what prompted that. “Both Jonathon and I will help look, the more eyes the better. But,” He emphasized at Flora when he saw her going to protest, “We are dropping you girls at the smithy first, and we’ll arm ourselves just in case we find him.”

Flora did not like this idea at all and she vocalized that as they made their way further into town toward where Will lived and worked. As they walked inside they saw Bessie, the mule that helped run the cogwheels in his shop, in distress and turning the machine unprompted. Will went to calm her down while while Jonathon grabbed an axe and sword from the wall.

“I’ll circle around back toward the fort and make my way north; check all the alleys and the bridges as I go. If you got the opposite we can meet up and then come back here,” He told Will who nodded, starting to shrug his jacket off since it would only hinder him. Flora caught Jonathon as he opened the door to leave.

“Please be careful, I mean it,” She whispered to him, her eyes searching his. She’d had a terrible feeling all day, ever since Elizabeth had told her of the shared dream of the pirate ship when they were children. Clearly this pirate being here in Port Royal was a bad omen.

“I will, I promise,” He took her hand, his eyes never leaving her face, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” And then he kissed her cheek and left.

Joanie had skipped over and saw Mr. Brown in the corner, passed out in his chair, “Oh look,” she cried happily, “Right where we left him.”

He didn’t stir.

Flora looked down at the drunk man disdainfully, “Are you sure he isn’t dead? No, Joanie! Don’t poke him.”

Will went to put his and Jonathon’s jackets down, as well as Flora’s shopping. Joanie went over to peek at what Flora had picked up from the market. The older girl warned her not to take anything from it, that she would give her some bread and cheese in a moment that she especially bought for their lunch. Joanie then walked off to inspect some tools in the corner.

Meanwhile Flora walked over to Will, “Please be careful.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“I have to, it’s my job,” She gave him a small smile, which he returned. “Don’t let your anger cloud your judgment. I know you care about Elizabeth but if you see that pirate I beg you please let the soldiers take care of it.”

He flushed, like he always did when she pointed out his feelings for Miss Swann. Flora had been the major go-between between the two of them these past couple of years, when it became less befitting for the young woman and the blacksmith of to be seen conversing. It was nothing scandalous, but sometimes a scribble of ‘I hope you find yourself well’ would be enough to send his heart soaring.

“I will.”

“Good. Because if either of you die I’ll kill the both of you,” He snorted at the threat.

“If anyone could find a way to do that, you could. I won’t be long, and when we get back I’ll escort you back to mansion myself,” He said.

“Good because I can’t stay here all afternoon, Marianne will have my hide,” She spoke of the head housekeeper who was going to be expecting her back soon. Then Flora grinned, “Seeing Elizabeth twice in one day.; practically Christmas for you.”

Will playfully shoved her and went to grab something, “Shut it. Just stay here and I’ll be back soon. Eldest says.” He could hear her scoff at that last part.

Joanie tried to slunk past her to go pet Bessie the mule, but Flora quickly grabbed her by a damp sleeve and pulled her back. The girl was stuffing something in her mouth. “Hey, I told you to wait. Certain cheese is for us; the rest is for the governor’s order. Which one did you take?” Flora was getting beyond frustrated with the girl today.

“I didn’t take any of your cheese or bread,” She replied indignantly, and held up a half eaten scone. Suddenly Joanie looked absolutely delighted and pointed behind her, “Look, your basket is back and it still a few scones in it.”

Flora looked up sharply to see that indeed, the basket she had loaded that morning with fresh raisin scones and some jam, was sitting on Will’s work bench behind some of his tools. The very same basket both Jonathon and Joanie had said was stolen by the pirate that was currently loose in Port Royal.

The very same pirate that Will was now slowly backing away from. He had been hiding in the shadows this whole time. The man had his sword raised at Will’s throat and was following every step the lad made, his movements almost lazy but his eyes sharp and fixed on the three young people in front of him.

“You’re the one they’re hunting,” Will said carefully, making sure to keep himself between this madman and his sisters, before sneering, “The pirate.”

Jack took in this boy, scrutinizing everything about his features. And then he peered at the girl behind him, who was clutching the child he met at the docks earlier. “You two seem somewhat familiar, have I threatened you before?”

Will stepped slightly to block the pirate from leering too much at Flora, “We make it a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates.” He glared.

“Ah, well it would be a shame to put a black mark on your records. So if you’ll excuse me,” Jack went to sheath his sword and grab his hat, convinced he had successfully scared the trio into not giving him any trouble.

Quick as lightning Will reached behind him and grabbed a sword off the display, pointing it at Jack. Hearing the movement, the pirate turned and looked amused more than anything

“You think this wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?”

Will glowered at Jack, raising his sword at face level. “Your threatened Miss Swann. You threw my siblings off a dock.”

Jack put the weight of sword against Will’s, testing his strength against the lad’s. He was surprised that the boy held it as strong as he did. He smirked at Will, “Only a little. Just a wee shove it was.”

Deciding to attack first, Jack was merely trying to ward the boy off, but to his surprise he parried and struck back with vigor. Will then advanced, driving Jack back slightly with a form that was quite rigid and well practiced.

Flora meanwhile was holding Joanie tightly, wondering what she should do. Will obviously meant to trap the pirate in here in the smithy, to keep him from escaping. They had passed soldiers on the way here who were stopping to search business and homes; certainly it wouldn’t be long until they made their way here.

Clutching her sister tightly, she slowly started making their way over to the front entrance. She didn’t want to leave Will, but she needed to make sure she and Joanie had away to escape if things went wrong, or maybe let the soldiers in when they passed by. They walked up the wooden platform carefully, trying not to jostle it. But Jack did see the movement, and a plan began forming in his head to get access to the door.

“You know what you’re doing I’ll give you that. Excellent form,” He wasn’t lying about that, and Jack brought his blade at the ready, “But how’s your footwork?”

He crossed his left foot over right, Will mirroring it, “If I step here. Very good.” He thrust his sword up and Will countered. “Now I step again,” Jack quickly circled Will. The clang of swords echoing as Will was able to block each blow as Jack moved quickly. They were now on the opposite sides that they’d started, and Jack paused to grin at Will, and the boy thought the pirate was actually amused by their sparring. That made him nervous. The pirate stepped forward and swiped once, causing Will to retreat a step but easily counter it.

“Ta,” Jack said, one of his gold teeth glinting, turning around to stroll right out the door. His plan had worked.

Will looked confused for a moment, but quickly realized he’d been tricked. Alarmed, he realized Flora and Joanie were standing on the stone steps in front of doorway, right in the pirate’s path. Having the wherewithal to push Joanie to the side, the child running back down the wooden platform, the older girl lost her footing and fell back against the door. Within two strides Jack had pulled himself up the steps and stood up, towering over Flora, who was clutching the latch.

The girl froze as he grabbed her wrist, muttering, “Pardon.”

At the same time Will yelled. “Flo, GET DOWN!”

She dropped like a stone and covered her head with her arm, the other was still in Jack’s grasp. Will threw the sword and with a loud whistle it embedded in the door right next to Jack’s head, missing it by inches. Starring at the sword with wide eyes, he glanced back at Will to make sure he wasn’t going to follow it with another attack. In his distraction, Flora yanked her herself free of him and propelled herself forward, running into Will’s arms. With relief she saw Joanie standing a few feet behind next to the forge.

Jack saw the sword had embedded itself above the latch, blocking it from being able to be lifted and unlocking the door. So he grasped the sword’s handle, which was still vibrating from the force of the impact, and pulled. But it was stuck. He tried a few more times but the sword would not un-lodge itself.

Watching the captain struggle with the sword brought smug smiles to Will and Flora’s faces. The pirate was trapped.

And then he turned around and glared at them, and their smiles faded. He stalked toward them, “That is a wonderful trick. Except once again, you lot are between me and my way out. And now—” They stepped backward as he advanced, nervously watching as Jack unsheathed his sword, smirking, “—you have no weapon. Defenseless.”

It was Flora who quickly reached behind them, grabbing an unfinished sword from the forge. Its tip was red hot and glowing from resting in the fire for hours. She smugly handed it to her twin who brandished it at Jack, the steel singing from the heat. Bessie the mule heard it and started walking, again turning the cogwheels of the machine.

She saw Jack freeze, taking in the sight of the heated sword. Flora raised a challenging eyebrow to him, and for the first time spoke directly to the pirate, “Defenseless are we?”

Jack dodged to his right, but Will quickly blocked him. They weaved left and right, their swords meeting with a rain of sparks as they used one of the support beams as a shield from one another. Flora stepped back, seeing the fighting had leveled up now. Jack was no longer playing and coming at Will with everything he had.

Jack used the cut manacles to wrap around Will’s sword and toss it away. Thinking quickly her brother dove toward the cogwheel and grabbed another sword from from the display on the support hub. The spokes were moving so the men had to continuously move with them less they lose their footing. Jack looked around, seeing swords of different caliber and style all about the smithy.

“Who makes all these?” Jack asked incredulously.

Will jumped on the hub, clashing slashing his sword at Jack. “I do!” He dodged a hammer Jack threw at him, “And my brother and I practice with them three hours a day!”

Jack leapt at him, and Will dodged, taking his place on the hub and forcing Will to now keep up with the rotating spokes. “You two need to find yourselves some girls, mate.” He mocked.

The pirate leapt back and Will followed, both brandishing a weapon in each hand at one point. Will’s swords crossed and locked with Jack’s, who brought his face close to Will’s. “Or perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is because you’ve already found one and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You’re not a eunuch, are you?” He looked down worriedly for Will’s made up state of anatomy before turning his eyes toward the forge at Flora, “Is that her? Is she yours, mate?”

Flora narrowed her eyes at Jack and Will’s temper rose, “I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill it, and my SISTERS remains unharmed.”

“Ah,” Jack was starting to get an idea of the family dynamic here. Will gave a hard swipe at Jack’s midsection but missed, the pirate stepping back onto the wooden platform, causing it to wobble. Jack decided to try a different route of striking fear into the boy, maybe cause him to stumble and give him the chance to escape. “So you think by blocking my exit you’ve trapped me, a bloodthirsty and ravenous pirate, in here with you? Oh no, son. You’ve trapped the little ladies in here with me!” He said, wolfishly looking in Flora’s direction.

Will face grew ashen, thinking he may have made a grievous mistake in blocking the door. He turned back quickly and yelled, “Flora, hide upstairs. Now!”

Flora, to her credit, did so immediately. Grabbing Joanie, they ran behind the forge which hid the staircase that led up to the loft where Will slept. She pushed up on the hatch door, and once they were inside she shut it again and latched it closed. She could still hear the clanging of swords, fearing sooner or later one of them would end up dead.

“What do we do?” Joanie asked.

Flora saw the window and got an idea. She stood on Will’s bed and opened the shutters. The loft window faced a relatively empty alley path, mostly used for storing boxes and carts. And just below them was a cart of hay for Bessie the mule.

Joanie was not excited about the prospect of being dropped out a window, and made that quite clear, almost coming to tears over it. But Flora reassured her she would be okay.

“That dock you fell off earlier, it’s not much taller than this. You’ve been so brave and I need you to stay brave just a little longer,” She wiped a tear that had fallen down Joanie’s cheek, “Please trust me, you will be fine.”

She helped Joanie over the ledge, keeping hold of her arms while she lowered the little girl as far as she could. Flora tried to smile and even make it a game, “On the count of three I’ll let you go, and I want you to shout ‘weeee’, okay?” Joanie nodded, her feet dangling midair. “It’ll be fun.”

Meanwhile Jack and Will were in the rafters, hopping from beam to beam. They sparred while maintaining a precarious balance, which was almost lost on both of them when a small body fell past the window of the upper wall, giving out a delighted ‘weeee’ as they did. Both men stopped and stared for a moment, and Will took advantage of it by knocking Jack’s sword from his hand.

Flora unhatched the loft door and came running down the stairs, trusting Joanie would follow her directions to find a soldier, hell anybody, and say the pirate was in the smithy and they were in danger.

In all the commotion her cap had fallen off and her long hair had come tumbling over her shoulders. The heat of the smithy was now getting to her, probably causing it to curl wildly, and she knew the sword clashing men would soon be growing exhausted. She turned the corner of the forge just in time to see them jump from the rafters. The pirate landed on the work bench and Will on the ground, smug that the pirate was now the one without a weapon.

But Jack reached next to him and grabbed the long sack hanging next to the forge, which contained fine sand and dirt used to quell the fire. Flora desperately reached out on instinct, not sure what she thought she could do, but Jack already started blowing the dirt at them, blinding them. Most of it was aimed at Will, and Flora quickly reeled back, stumbling forward onto the work bench and then onto the ground, at the still sleeping Mr. Brown’s feet. She heard the clang of Will’s sword as it hit the ground, Jack having kicked it out of her brother’s hand.

She coughed and cleared her eyes, and looked up just in time to see Will’s dust-caked form pick up a large set of tongs and get ready to fight again, only to come face to face with a pistol. Jack was clearly done sword fighting.

Will froze and Flora gasped, truly frightened for the first time for her brother.

“You cheated,” Will accused.

“Pirate,” Jack shot back, unapologetically.

Suddenly they heard a commotion at the front door. Men were shouting outside, the door bulging as they tried to break it down. The marines were here; Flora gave out a sigh of relief.

Jack’s eyes fixed on the door at the back of building, his last chance to escape. Will jumped in front of it, his makeshift weapon still raised and ready even in the face of a pistol.

“Move away,” Jack ordered

“No.”

“Please move,” Jack actually sounded sincere, which took both the Turner’s by surprise.

But Will wouldn’t budge, his conscious wouldn’t allow it. “No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape.”

Amidst the pounding on the door, Jack cocked the pistol. His kohl rimmed eyes boring deep into Will’s with a madness and determination that both intrigued and terrified him. He hissed, “This shot is not meant for you!”

Will’s head cocked in confusion.

Suddenly a bottle smashed against the back of Jack’s skull, glass flying everywhere. Jack’s eyes glazed and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Will looked up to see Flora, holding the the neck of Mr. Brown’s disregarded rum bottle, her hands shaking as she looked from Jack on the ground and back to her brother. Her mouth was open in complete shock at what she’d just done.

Then the door splintered open and the room was filled with soldiers and sailors alike, the commodore coming in with his own pistol raised. The site that greeted him was memorable to say the least. Both the Turner twins were coated in a brown dust and absolutely disheveled; the boy had a pair of tongs at the ready as a makeshift weapon, and the girl had a broken bottle. And there lay the legendary Jack Sparrow on the ground between them, the broken glass evident to the commodore what had taken place.

“Excellent work, Miss Flora. You’ve assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive,” He praised. But the girl looked less than pleased at the news, in fact she looked as if about to cry.

A small part of James suddenly feared that the girl had been the victim of an attempted sexual assault by the pirate on the floor. He wouldn’t put it past vile men such as this, and what he’d witnessed the man make Elizabeth do concerning dressing him on the dock spoke of his abhorrent character. Miss Flora’s disheveled appearance and wild hair was cause for concern.

In fact, he’d couldn’t recall the last time he’d ever seen her hair down. And even less without a cap or bonnet. After the death of her mother she’d taken to wearing them more often than not; a sign of shielding and mourning he’d always assumed.

“Did I kill him? Is he dead?” Her voice suddenly cracked, horrified at the implication.

‘Ah, what a soft heart she has,’ James thought. All assumptions of the state of her virtue were sated. She’d always been a selfless little thing, ever since that day he pulled her from the ocean. No wonder half his battalion adored her. In fact, one them leaned down to check the pirate’s well-being (with six bayonets pointed on his person) and announced that he was alive. He saw the relief of not taking a life ease into her being

“Well I trust you will always remember that this the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped. Take him away!” The commodore watched as Sparrow was re-shackled and carried under the arms by two marines, dragging his unconscious form toward the fort. James turned to the twins, seeing that the boy had taken his sister in his embrace and was trying to comfort her. “Your step-brother and sister are outside, shall I let them in?” The boy nodded.

Jonathon raced inside, and taking in the state of the two of them for a moment before deciding he didn’t care, hugging them both tightly. Joanie followed him, hopping down the steps and running to wedge herself in the embrace as well. James turned to leave, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment.

The commodore did stop to look a moment, at the figure reclining on the chair in the corner. "Good God," He exclaimed. "The pirate didn't kill Mr. Brown did he?"

All of them looked over and were startled when the man in question suddenly snorted, before stretching and settling back down into a deep, rum-soaked oblivion. Mr. Brown had missed the entire affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jack Sparrow has officially met all the main characters. And what an impression he makes. I read the original script for COTBP and it's actually quite good and a lot of the dialogue remained unchanged. Also I googled so much terminology for sword fighting and blacksmith tools so this would be more descriptive and believable, I hope it helps.
> 
> Also most grown women, especially of working class, usually wore a cap or bonnet of some kind in the 18th century. It was a sign of modesty. So the fact that Flora's is missing and her hair down and disheveled in the presence of Norrington and his men is cause for concern, but I chose only to show it in the extent of them being worried it implied Jack may have attempted something untoward. Don't worry though, Jack never would do that in my stories. He implied the girls were in danger in the smithy merely as a way to play on Will's fears and be able to let him escape.
> 
> Also I've named the jail dog with the keys Chopper, because that's actually the name of one of the dogs that played him onscreen. He's so cute and I absolutely had to name him


	6. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Governor Swann deal with the wet and dusty results of their children's misadventures. Jonathon and his father butt heads over his future. The girls have an impromptu slumber party

He had never felt smaller in his entire life. Jonathon sat on a stack of firewood outside the garden shed where he slept, cursing Marcus for breaking the clay pipe he knew the other lad kept hidden under his bed. Though he he tried not to make it a habit, Jonathon at that moment desperately wished for the sweet release of tobacco after the day he’d had.

He could still hear his father’s words ringing in his ears, the bitter tone that they took with one another. Jonathon had never seen his father so angry upon answering the door to find the newly appointed Commodore Norrington, and behind him all four of his children in various states of wet and grime.

Gillette had taken to making sure Sparrow was being locked in the cells of Fort Charles, and Norrington had decided to escort the McAdams-Turner clan back to the mansion so he could personally inform Governor Swann of the pirate’s apprehension. 

Jonathon knew that Norrington thought he was doing them a favor, and held nothing against the man. But in his father’s eyes he may as well have dragged him and his family there by the ears like they were naughty students being sent home from school.

Governor Swann had walked by, and froze upon seeing them. Norrington started to tell him the pirate had been captured at the smithy and walked inside. But when Jonathon had tried to take a step he was blocked by his father; all the children were. He coldly told them to walk around the back and he would meet them there. Then he slammed the door. 

Flora’s face turned red as they passed two other maids hanging up the laundry, the women snickering behind the linens at the dust covering Flora and Will’s hair and clothes. They’d tried to wash it off their faces as well as possible.

They waited outside by the garden shed, unsure what else to do. After what felt like forever Ramsay came out the back door and was followed by one of the cooks who had a bucket of water and a cloth. And he also informed them that the commodore and the governor had told him everything. He was not pleased.

He started with Joanie but in the end the girl got off light. She was going to bed without supper and was threatened to be spanked if she ever wandered off and talked to a stranger again. Next was Flora who kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Breaking a bottle over a man’s head? Where did an evil thought such as that ever come from? Who knew you were capable of such violence?!” Ramsay asked of her.

Will came to her defense, “She was only trying to protect me. He had a pistol pointed at me.”

Ramsay rounded on him, “And why was she forced to that? Your sisters were trapped in the smithy with a pirate. Tell me, why was she forced to come to YOUR aide?”

Will paused, “The door was blocked.”

“That PIRATE put his hands on your sister, a lady! What if you hadn’t been there? Can you imagine what that vile man could have done to her, or Joanie?”

“I was the one who said it was okay to go to the smithy,” Flora tried to tell a wee lie, to get some of the heat off Will, “But I should have come straight home.”

“Yes, you should have,” Ramsay put a finger in Flora’s face as he berated her, “You should have brought Joanie straight here after the market. You have a job to do Flora, you have responsibilities here. You have your work and you have your sister to look after. And it is only by the grace of God and Governor Swann that you have both still.” He motioned to her unkempt appearance. “Look at the state of you, like a real blowsabella. I’m shocked the governor didn’t want to relieve you the moment you showed up at the door like this. But he’s a good man and is beholden to you because you helped catch the pirate who threatened his daughter.”

Will perked up, “How is Miss Swann, is she inside?”

“Oh don’t even get me started on that with you,” Ramsay pointed at him. “Get these notions out of your head about you and her, boy. In what world would she consider someone of our class to marry when she expects so much more? People are already beginning to talk.”

Will winced as the words hit him; they may as well have struck him like a battering ram with how much they sang true to him. Ramsay added a final humiliation, “End it now, son. It’s pathetic. The commodore is in there with her, she has no need of you.”

Humbled and heart broken, Will and Flora were dismissed. Will was told to wash himself off as best he could with with the bucket and washcloth Ramsay had brought out, then he was to go straight back to Mr. Brown. Flora was told Marianne had prepared a small tub of water and brought a spare dress for her to change in the back kitchen. Once both had left the garden shed Ramsay turned to his son.

“And you; I think it’s high time you seriously re-evaluated your priorities here.”

“Beg pardon?”

Ramsay sighed. “This idea about joining the navy. It’s a nonsensical dream, one it’s time you woke up from.”

He groaned, “Papa, it’s not some fancying whim and you know it. I’ve been thinking about it hard the past year and a career in the navy isn’t something to turn your nose up at. It’s respectable, has room to grow, and there’s a pension in the end.”

“Aye, but it’s disciplined and rigid as well, boy,” Ramsay knew his son was capable of anything, that he could anything he put his mind to. “I know you have a wandering spirit about you but can you abide by a strict institution such as the King’s Navy?” 

Though his children lacked a formal education it was by the amity of Governor Swann that he allowed Flora to sit in on some of Elizabeth’s lessons with her governess when they were younger. Because of that his step-daughter had been exposed to lessons in literature, conversation, and eloquence. She’d also discovered a talent for embroidery and Elizabeth had gifted her with a small kit one Christmas.

As a result, Ramsay had made sure that Jonathon had access to books appropriate for his age and monitored how well he progressed in his sums. Ramsay even went as far as assigning book reports, but Ramsay himself would read the texts before Jonathon so he’d know if his boy fibbed but also so they could discuss the topic together. Will was self disciplined and since he was satisfied in his blacksmith trade, Ramsay never worried about him when it concerned home learning.

Yes, his children were educated to a sense as appropriate to their station. But never were they exposed to a rigid institution, and thus the cruelty and scrutiny of others. He didn’t want his son to be hurt if the higher officers from the more privileged families decided to look down on him.

“I’m doing my due diligence, Papa. That’s why I was at the docks earlier, to speak to the marines first hand. And they did nothing but support me in my interest.” It’s true, Murtogg and Mullroy may be dunderheaded but they passed Navy tests and knew how all the pieces fit together.

“Ah, yes,” Ramsay groaned, “The dock that was off limits to civilians and that you bribed your way in with scones. Very disciplined of you.” Then Ramsay thought a moment and tried his final hand to bring the boy back to reality. It was one he loathed to use but he knew it was the likeliest to work, “And what thoughts have you given to Flora on this matter?”

“What do you mean?” Jonathon furrowed his brow.

“I know you got Flora roped into it because she’d do anything for you. But are you willing to do what necessary for her future?” Ramsay asked. Had either of them really discussed it?

“If I get assigned overseas, in the permanent sense?” Ramsay nodded. “Then she’d come with me.”

“Just like that? You expect her to leave her life here and start anew?” Ramsay scoffed.

“You and Ma did,” Jonathon replied dryly. Ramsay went to retort but found himself speechless for a moment, knowing that this wasn’t going how he wanted. Finally, he recovered.

“So that’s the life you wish for her? Be a sailor, leave her alone for months, maybe years, not knowing if you’re safe? I watched her mother suffer through that for years and I won’t plague her with that as well. It’s time you took your work herein Port Royal more seriously, like I do.”

“I don’t want to be like you,” Those words cut Ramsay worse than any blade, but he beat down his sadness to allow room for his anger.

“What’s wrong with what we have, we have a good life and a fine house to live in—”

“It’s not our house!” Jonathon raised his arm up to the great mansion, exasperated. “You scared Flora half to death just by suggesting she could be dismissed today for what happened. One mistake and everything could be gone on the whims of the master of the house. I can’t spend the rest of my life to that, at the mercy of men who had the luck of being born a station above me”

“So you’d rather be left to the mercy and unforgiving nature of the ocean, is that it?”

And then Jonathon’s voice lowered, his eyes losing impatience and growing sharp with anger. “It would be far kinder than how you spoke to them earlier. I could never hurt Will and Flora in such a way as you have today.”

“By speaking the truth?” Ramsay sneered. “The governor and I let a lot of things slide; with Flora and Elizabeth they get along handsomely and she makes Elizabeth very happy. But Flora doesn’t shirk her duties or take advantage of the affection; and outside this house its restrained as it should be. But the governor does not see Will’s affection in the same light. What can he offer her, really?”

“You make it sound like he’s some uneducated waif.” Jonathon said, hurt by this. 

“Compared to the Swann’s he may as well be.”

Now Jonathon whirled around on him. “And what does that make us?” Jonathon asked sharply.

Father and son stared at each other, each feeling the hot exhale of their breathe against their faces as they tried to bite back any more hurtful words. Both were angry, and both misunderstood each other. But both their actions were a misplacement of love for their family. Ramsay tried to hide the hurt behind his eyes when he came to the conclusion that Jonathon was ashamed of him, of being servant. But Ramsay had done everything he could to better himself and his family. He merely wanted Jonathon to do the same.

Ramsay huffed and turned to walk away before he said something he regretted. With each step his father took in the grass Jonathon felt his heart sink. He’d wanted to hurt his father with his words, just as his father hurt Flora with his. But as he saw his father’s back retreat into the house he was overcome with a staggering urge to run, embrace him, beg his forgiveness. To be like a little boy again and ask if his father still loved him.

But he didn’t. And little did Jonathon know, watching from his sulk as the sun began to descend in the sky, he would regret that decision for years to come.

____________________________________

Elizabeth was tucked into her bed, propped up on her pillows with a book in hand. She watched Estrella fill her bed warmer with coal and place it under her mattress. Little did Estrella know that she had a perfectly hidden bed warmer hidden under the covers.

“There you go, miss. It was a difficult day for you I’m sure.” The kind maid soothed.

She nodded, “I suspected Commodore Norrington would propose but I must admit I wasn’t entirely prepared for it.”

Estrella paused, “I meant you being threatened by that pirate! Sounds terrifying.”

Elizabeth swallowed, catching herself, “Oh yes, it was terrifying.” And rather exhilarating, and gave her an excuse to delay giving Norrington an answer right away.

“But,” Estrella perked up at the news she’d just heard, “The commodore proposed! Fancy that. Now that’s a smart match miss, if it’s not too bold to say.”

“It is a smart match,” Elizabeth agreed, going over his good qualities, “He’s a fine man. What any woman should dream of marrying.” Her words were true but her voice was empty. Sometimes she thought if she said it enough times she could erase the apprehension she felt about building a life with him.

Estrella checked the candle on the bedside table and saw the look in her mistress’s face. But it wasn’t a doe-eyed, faraway look she’d seen many a lass get when talking about someone that struck their fancy. So she decided to risk a little dig to see if her thoughts were correct.  
“Well that Will Turner,” Elizabeth’s eyes shot up, “He’s a fine man too.”

“That is too bold,” Elizabeth quietly scolded. She had heard the pirate had been captured at the smithy and her thoughts had immediately gone to Will and whether he was alright. She’d schooled her question to the commodore when he’d come to inform her father, asking if anyone had been harmed in apprehending such a dangerous man.

She’d learned of Will having attempted to fight off the pirate, and of Flora hitting him over the head with a bottle. Norrington had also said they were in a right state and would probably be cleaning themselves off, before her father added he'd given Flora the rest of the evening off to recover in the servant’s quarters.

Earlier while Estrella herself had prepared a bath for her, she looked out her balcony window and saw a man making his way down the road and toward the gate. It was Will! A part of her was hurt that he hadn’t come to see her, but then she scolded herself with such thoughts. Her father would never allow it. Just as Will reached the gate to push it open she saw him pause, before turning around to stare back at the house, at her window. She ducked slightly, aware she was only wearing a robe, but peaked her head again to see if he was still there.

He was. So she took half a step out behind the patio door, letting her hand grasp the side as she gazed out at him. Wanting him to see that she was there, that she knew what he done and that she had seen him. That she wanted him to see her. She didn’t want to hide from him, unashamed she was in these little communications between them. Will opened the gate, and when he pulled it closed behind, she saw him grasp the iron bars and look straight at her. She hoped he could see her smiling at him. Because she saw him give a smile right back before he turned and continued back into town.

“Begging your pardon, miss. It wasn’t my place,” Estrella’s voice brought her back to the present. But then it went from apologetic to mischievous, “I’ll keep to what I know best which is how to get lumps out of beds.” Estrella reached over and patted the lump under the covers cuddled up next to Elizabeth. Both women laughed when a muffled groan came from under the blanket and Estrella pulled them back to reveal Joanie, dressed for bed and cuddling up to Elizabeth quite comfortably. 

“Does your sister know you’re here?” Estrella asked, and when the girl shook her head she turned to Elizabeth. “You want me to take her back to her bed?”

“No, it’s fine,” Elizabeth answered quickly, tucking some of Joanie’s hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t find Flora all day. Would you let her know she’s here and welcome to stay? It’s no bother at all. Miss Joanie here had a trying day as well; took a tumble off the dock.”

Estrella nodded, bid them goodnight and left the room. Once they were alone Joanie sat upright against Elizabeth, who put her book away and reached into her side table drawer to pull out some sliced brown bread wrapped in a cloth. She knew Joanie had been sent to bed without supper and that just wouldn’t do. Not when they had so much to talk about.

“Now where were we?” Elizabeth asked, handing a piece of bread to little girl.

“Flora took a sword out of the fire and handed it to Will,” Joanie said before taking a quick bite, trying not to get crumbs in the bed.

“Ah yes, do continue Miss Joanie.”

And so Elizabeth was regaled with the story of Will clashing swords with a pirate around the smithy. How the pirate had said something about being locked inside with the girls so Will ordered her and Flora upstairs. She talked about being dropped from a great height out of the window (“I wasn’t scared at all Miss Liz”) and running down the street screaming for help, grabbing the attention of a redcoat who signaled more men to follow them back to the smithy.

Just then there a slight knock at the door, and Joanie ducked back under the covers in case it was her father. Elizabeth uncovered her again when it turned out to be Flora.

“There you are,” she said to Joanie. “I’m sorry Elizabeth, I thought maybe Jonathon had her. I was about to get dressed and go looking.”

Flora indeed was wearing her nightgown; a simple chemise she could throw her dress over easily. When Estrella had told her Joanie’s whereabouts she cursed in her head. Her step-father was already furious with them all after today, and now her sister was hiding in her mistress’s bed.

Elizabeth noticed Flora had covered herself with a shawl of some kind, but when she got closer she saw the plaid pattern and realized it was a tartan. When Helen Turner had been dragged from the sea it had been haphazardly tied about her waist as another skirt layer, and Elizabeth knew somewhere on the tartan was a small, circular brass pin that had an image of a thistle stamped in the middle. Helen had brought it from Scotland, it being one of the few possessions the family had been able to salvage from their previous life.

It was quite a large piece of material, so it could be easily worn over the body to cover one’s self almost completely or easily folded several times to act as a shawl. The thistle pin was always attached to a corner for easy fastening.

“Oh it’s perfectly fine, Flora, really. In fact,” Elizabeth giddily patted the other side of the bed. “Why don’t you come join us? It’ll be just like when we were girls.”

Flora looked at the bed, remembering when they had been young and Elizabeth had snuck her into her room so they could read books or whisper under the covers long into the night. They’d stifle giggles and talk about anything and everything. But things were different now.

Shaking her head reluctantly, Flora said. “I don’t want to get in trouble with your father. I’m sure I’ve already caused enough of a fuss today.”

“He’s at the fort with Commodore Norrington,” Elizabeth countered. “And your father has no reason to come up here unless I call him, which I have absolutely no plans to.”

Flora hesitated for a moment and looked back at the door, and Elizabeth’s heart sank that her friend my actually just leave. But flora checked to make sure the door was closed completely and then walked over with a small grin. Elizabeth took one of her pillows and gave to her and all three girls got under the covers, Joanie in the middle. And like she’d done with Joanie earlier, Elizabeth pushed some of Flora’s hair behind her ear, running her hand down it now that it was down. Elizabeth always thought Flora had beautiful hair, and she detected a hint of damp in it from when Flora had vigorously washed it in an attempt to get all the dust out earlier.

Elizabeth begged Flora to tell her what happened after Joanie was sent for help from the smithy. Flora told her about Jack and Will somehow getting up in the rafters, about the dirty trick with the dust in their eyes, the pistol, Mr. Brown’s bottle. And mostly just how astonished she was at how good Will was at sword fighting.

“I knew he practiced sometimes, but he always got shy whenever I came to the smithy and saw him doing it,” Flora laughed. “And apparently he and Jonathon practice three hours a day! No wonder Jon is always so lazy in the morning; he must go to the smithy at night after he’s done with work here.”

“He must want to practice so he can be better for the navy,” Elizabeth concluded. “Is he still set on joining?”

Flora nodded, “Aye. That’s why he was at the docks today, he was asking those marines on what’s to be expected and find out more information first hand.”

“Will you miss him if he leaves?”

She hesitated, before nodding again. “I’m hoping he won’t though. With a perfectly good fort right here in Port Royal and the fact that he knows the area has to be an advantage for him.”

“I’m sure Commodore Norrington would keep him here. He knows the value of a good sailor.”

At the mention of the commodore, Flora looked at her friend. Joanie has started dozing a while ago so they had some semblance of privacy to speak freely. “Did he really propose to you?” Elizabeth nodded, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, I fell off the fort.”

A sputter of a laugh broke from Flora’s lips but she quickly stifled it under her hand. Elizabeth pretended to be mad and glare at her as she continued to fight giggles. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. It’s not.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips into a tight smile, trying not to laugh as well. “Well if I said yes, then one of the conditions of the marriage shall be that Jonathon is to be stationed here. Let them sail off and complete missions if they must but Jonathon shall always return home here to you.”

Flora gazed at her friend fondly, but saw the sadness behind Elizabeth’s eyes. She knew that her heart did not belong to James Norrington, who to his credit, had done everything he could to prove himself worthy of it. But Flora saw the looks her brother and her mistress tried in vain to hide form one another. Remembered each trip she took to the smithy and the little note or piece of bread or bundle of fruit Elizabeth would give her to take to him. Out of respect she never read the little notes but always wondered what they said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Flora whispered, referring to both the favor for Jonathon and the proposal.

Realizing Flora was the first one to actually tell her she didn’t have to accept the proposal was not lost on her. A small weight lifted from her chest at hearing somebody say it out loud. Estrella had hinted to it earlier, but then just like everyone else had talked up Norrington, trying to point out every advantage of the match before Elizabeth could even fathom bringing up possibly turning it down. Elizabeth loved Flora all the more for it.

She reached over and grasped Flora’s hand, and above the sleeping Joanie’s head she kissed it. “You’re a good friend.”

Flora squeezed her hand back, “So are you, Liz.”

But Elizabeth’s smile began to fade, and she slowly let go of Flora’s hand to lie back against the pillow for a moment. She was about to ask what was wrong when Elizabeth reached inside her nightdress to produce a chain hanging around her neck.

“No, I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blowsabella* is an 18th century term for an unkempt or disheveled woman
> 
> I'm so excited because finally the Black Pearl arrives in the next chapter. I don't think you guys are going to guess how the entire confrontation will play out or what will result of the parley, but the next chapter is whole reason I ended up writing this fanfic. Enjoy!


	7. Attack of Port Royal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Pearl attacks Port Royal. Will prepares to defend the town while Elizabeth and his siblings try to survive the invasion of their home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning for an OC death. I warned you all not to get attached to a couple of them*

Elizabeth removed the chain off her neck and held it for Flora to take. Flora blinked in confusion for a moment but then her eyes widened as she recognized it, sitting up slightly as the medallion dangled from the the chain in Elizabeth’s hand. She almost didn’t want to take it for fear it wasn’t real and would burst into thin air the moment she did.

Finally taking the cold little medallion in her hand, she marveled at it. It had been years since she’d thought about, but that little grinning skull was staring right back at her after all this time. Its exotic and foreign symbols encircling it. Will had been devastated when he’d realized it wasn’t on his person after they were rescued, but his mother assured him that they were lucky to be alive, that they lost all their possessions when the ship exploded. But it was the one thing of their father’s that they’d had, and the twins had both lamented over its loss.

And here it was, back in her hands after all these years. But that meant…

She turned sharply to Elizabeth, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice, “Have you had this the whole time? Why?”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth cried softly, and the cowardly part of her was thankful for the sleeping Joanie between them, meaning they had to keep their voices down. “I saw Will wearing while he was unconscious and I thought it meant you all were pirates. It’s foolish now, I know. But Norrington had just told me that he was determined to see every pirate hanged. I had just met you and thought you all wonderful, but the idea that he would think you pirates and arrest your family terrified me.”

Flora made no move to stop Elizabeth from speaking, but her furrowed brow seemed to lessen as Elizabeth went on. 

“And then no one brought up the medallion to me, not even Will. I thought it was supposed to be a secret; foolish I know. I didn’t know your father had sent it to! If I did I would have returned it immediately. And then the childish part of me hid it, thinking I could return at a later time, but more time passed and I forgot about it. Until the dream last night.” Elizabeth saw Flora stiffen at the mention of the ghost ship they had both dreamed about.

When Flora continued to stare down at the medallion, Elizabeth grew scared that her friend was too angry, that she’d crossed an unforgivable line even to sweet Flora Turner’s standards. 

But finally she spoke, “I won’t pretend I’m not angry, but I can see why you did it. We were children,” She sighed, and then a soft smile graced her face as she ran a thumb over the medallion. “What’s done is done. It’s not like it would bring our father back.”

“But what I did was unforgivable,” Elizabeth said miserably.

“You returned it to me, even after all this time,” Flora said. “You could have never told me, kept it hidden forever, or chucked it into ocean to hide all evidence. But you chose to give it back to me.” And then Flora finally looked Elizabeth in the eye again, and had no trace of malice. “I stand by what I said: you’re a good friend, Liz.”

“I’m still so sorry, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” Elizabeth whispered. She lay on her side, resting her head on the crook of her folded arm.

Flora lay on her back, dangling the medallion above her back and forth to catch the light of the candle. “Will and I used to fight over who got to wear this. It drove Ma insane, she had write out a timetable eventually,” She laughed. 

Putting the chain around her neck, the medallion being worn by a Turner once again for the first time in eight years, and she admired it with all the giddiness of a child.

Then a cold wind came through the window, ruffling the soft curtains, causing them to dance like specters. The oil candle flickered and fought but soon the wind overpowered it and the flame snuffed out.

The room plunged into darkness. Flora looked up at the little skull on her medallion, which had appeared so exotic against the glow of the candle now grinned back at her through the shadows of the moonlight, looking rather unsettling.

And nestled between the girls, Joanie let out a light moan in her sleep, her little face scrunching up in discomfort. A nightmare was beginning.

Back in Mr. Brown’s smithy, Will pounded away at a hot iron. Sweat dripped down his face as he tried to get out his frustration at everything his step-father had said to him. In all the years he’d known Ramsay McAdams he’d never thought he could be so cruel. This was a man who took on raising two children who weren’t his, marrying his mother only after he had asked Will if that was okay. There was a good level of respect and affection between the two men and Will had always liked how soft Ramsay was to Flora and Joanie, as most fathers are want to do with their daughters.

So to hear that cruel truth from him was quite a blow, and he decided he would stay away from the governor’s mansion for a while until the both of them calmed down. Seeing Elizabeth smile at him from the window, despite knowing a future together was unlikely, elated him.

But the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he paused mid-swing of his hammer. He looked behind him, really hoping another pirate hadn’t broken into the smithy, and saw nothing. It was like the air itself suddenly sucked all the noise out of the area. 

He found himself childishly checking the corners of the room, wherever a shadow could hide someone. He even checked the front door which was poorly repaired from when the marines kicked it in earlier. He needed to take proper stock of any wooden boards he may have before having to go to the carpenter.

Finally opening the shutters of the window, he looked into the small walkway between the smithy and the other buildings, the very alley Joanie had been dropped from the loft window to get help. It was dark now, and a fog had rolled in out of nowhere and gave the area an eerie look about it. The only sign that there was life outside was the stray cat that suddenly ran under the window and into the fog, not a single sound peeping from the spooked creature.

Slowly closing the shudder, he removed his apron and decided to take a break. He hoped that the long day and playing catch–up with his orders due to the fiasco with the pirate was to blame for his paranoia. 

He had barely sat down to take a drink of water when he was jostled by the thunderous sounds of cannon hitting stone

_______________________

Jonathon fell forward off the pile of firewood, jostled from the nap he had accidentally taken. He had fallen asleep sitting up, hit hat over his eyes. Getting to his feet he waited a moment, wondering what had awoken him. His answer came with a ‘boom’ sound emanating from the direction of the bay. His sleep addled brain thought it might be thunder, but the lack of lightning quickly disproved that. Hearing it again now told him it was cannon fire! 

Elizabeth and Flora sprung from the bed, barely having dozed off when the cannon fire began. Joanie awoke with a cry, and was still abed as the older girls ran to the balcony to take in a scene of carnage. Some of the trees that blocked their view of the town were on fire, smoke and mist rising in the air. A cannon hit the fort, shattering the stone of one corner while the soldiers there returned fire. The cannons were coming from a dark vessel in the middle of the bay.

Yelling could be heard from the path leading up to the house and suddenly about half a dozen figures cam barreling through the front gate. Pirates! They were carrying torches and swords, and heading right for the front door!

“Stay here!” Flora yelled at Joanie while she and Elizabeth ran out the bedroom. The girl didn’t need to be told twice, immediately throwing the covers over her head to hide.

Jonathon walked through the back kitchen entrance and started making his way to the front of the house. He wondered if any of the other servants had heard the cannons or knew more about what was going on. Hearing frantic knocking come from the front, he picked up his pace. He walked through the door of one of the dining rooms just in time to see his father two steps away from the front door. 

Ramsay opened it, like he had thousands of times before, just in time for a frantic, “Don’t!” To come from the stairs above them.

Jonathon froze when he saw a man hold a pistol up to his father’s forehead and greeted, “Hello, chum.” And pulled the trigger.

Flora and Elizabeth screamed from the stairway. Jonathon gave a low yell from shock. And before Ramsay’s body even hit the ground the men swarmed the mansion, running in different directions.

One of them, a dark-skinned man with a milky eye and dreadlocks, ran toward Jonathon, his sword raised menacingly. Jonathon turned and ran back from where he came and toward the kitchens.

Meanwhile two pirates, a balding one who was short and stout, and a skinny one with a wooden eye, took notice of the girls on the stairs and made chase for them. Flora grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and they ran back to her bedroom. Elizabeth closed the door behind them and locked it, before they turned around and almost screamed as Estrella ran into them.

“Miss Swann, they’ve come to kidnap you!” Estrella took her mistress’s arms and pulled her away from the door.

“What?” Elizabeth asked.

“You’re the governor’s daughter,” Estrella said. All three of them jumped when the door started shaking, the shouts of the men trying to get in, Joanie’s cry of fright from the adjoining bedroom sending Flora to her side.

“We won’t let them take you Elizabeth,” Flora assured when she cam back, holding Joanie to her. “But I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Elizabeth took Joanie’s hand and quickly gave her over to Estrella. She said to Flora, “They haven’t seen them yet,” and then turned back to other maid, “Take Joanie and hide, and the first chance you get run to the fort!”

Estrella and Joanie had just barely hidden behind the privacy screen when the door burst open. Flora and Elizabeth had run into the doorway leading to her bedroom, the pirates catching site of a nightgown disappearing behind the doorway. As the shorter one, Pintel went to round after them he was greeted with the metal bed warmer to his face. Stunned, he tumbled back.

Estrella took that opportunity to run, racing down the stairs with one hand grasping Joanie behind her. They were met with absolute chaos, seeing staff and pirates alike running through the house as the pirates looted and gave chase.

The poor maid couldn’t help the scream that escaped her when at the front door they were greeted by the body of Ramsay McAdams, still lying where he’d been shot dead. 

“Daddy!” Joanie cried, letting go of Estrella’s hand and dropping down to kneel over her father. She put her little hands on his un-moving chest and began begging him to wake up and come with them.

“Joanie,” Estrella yelled, trying to grab the girl and take her out the front door to safety, but the little girl was close to hysterics and just wanted to stay with her father. A pirate spotted them and Estrella barely had time to act before a sword came down and nearly took her arm off had she not moved.

The movement caused Estrella and Joanie to jump back in opposite directions, and when the pirate made moves toward the maid to make chase, she grievously had no choice but to go out the front door after she saw Joanie take off toward Governor Swann’s office. The little girl ran in and closed the door behind her before running under the governor’s desk and hiding.

Jonathon meanwhile was staggering back into the kitchen, the milky eyed pirate, named Katracho, giving chase and gaining fast. Jonathon saw a spade he had left by the back kitchen door and went to grab for it. As the pirate went to swing his blade to slice Jonathon down the middle, he brought the spade up to block it. Pushing the sword away and backing up, he saw an opening and swung the spade right into pirate’s head, sending his dreadlocks swinging.

The pirate was down for a moment but recovering and Jonathon turned to run back to check on the girls, but was met with another pirate. This one had jumped on the kitchen island and connected his boot to Jonathon’s face. He barely avoided a broken nose but his head snapped back and he tripped over the body of Kotracho. He fell halfway into a pantry.

He tied to pull himself by grasping the counter, but knocked several trays off the counter and onto himself, causing the two pirates that were now advancing on him to snicker. Kotracho was the closest and crouched down, his sword back in his hand. As he lunged at the boy, Jonathon quickly pushed a flat silver tray on the ground, and when Kotracho’s foot stepped on it the tray slipped. Kotracho came falling down on Jonathon, who quickly rolled and grabbed the tray off the ground.

He dodged a blow from the other pirate and Jonathon brought the tray down on the back of his head, pitching him forward and into the pantry with Kotracho. Thinking quick, Jonathon shut the pantry door and blocked it with a chair, knowing it was temporary but hoped to hell it would hold long enough for him to get his sisters out of here.

Joanie whimpered and hid her face in her knees when she heard someone crawl through the window of the office. From her hiding place she was able to see the dirty feet walk past the desk as the pirate took notice of anything worth stealing. Books and little busts were thrown onto the floor and each time Joanie hoped he would leave. 

The chair was hiding her well in her little alcove under the desk, but her heart sank when out of nowhere several pearl necklaces fell on the floor, dropped by the pirate as he struggled to hold his stolen boons. When he bent down to pick them back up, he happened to glance and see the little girl under the desk. He grinned his rotten teeth at her and she screamed his dirty hand reach into the alcove. But she was small enough to quickly crawl under the other side of the desk and she made for the door.

After they’d released the hot coals onto Ragetti, Flora and Elizabeth dashed out the room. As they ran down the stairs they could hear Pintel coming behind them, but suddenly Ragetti landed at the foot of the stairs having jumped the banister. Elizabeth stopped abruptly when he landed in front of her, causing Flora to bump into her. Their fear spiked when they realized they were trapped between the two very angry pirates now.

And then several things happened at once.

Joanie ran from the governor’s office and tripped, a pirate clutching a pile of treasure coming just behind her as she tried to crawl away. Jonathon emerged from the dining room, barely having time to take in the two groups of pirates on opposite sides of the room trapping his sisters and Elizabeth.

And then there was the whistling of a cannonball as it tore through the house. It broke through the wall and through a support beam, everyone’s eyes following it as it sailed over Joanie’s head straight into the pirate who had been pursuing her. He was thrown backward through the office doors. It stunned all of them for moment as they waited for another possible cannonball to come through.

The chandelier above Joanie began to shake precariously and Jonathon rushed forward, yelling at the other girls, “Come on!” 

Elizabeth grabbed Flora’s hand and they barely missed being pulled back Pintel and Ragetti. Jonathon had snatched up Joanie and was rushing into a room the governor used for entertaining. The girls followed him as the chandelier let go and crashed just behind them, separating them from the pirates.

They slammed the door shut behind them and grabbed a candelabra, stuffing it between the door handles to lock it. Jonathon put Joanie down and went to grab the two swords on display above the fireplace. But upon pulling one he realized they were sealed into the display, unprctical and unable to be pulled from the décor. He threw it down in frustration, “Bloody useless.”

The doors groaned as the pirates slammed their bodies against it, their angry shouts filling the four of them with dread. They were no other exits; they were trapped.

Then Flora ran to the window and opened it, “I have an idea, quickly!”

Within three hits the door slammed open, and Pintel and Ragetti stormed into the room. It was empty. Ragetti walked toward the open window, it seemingly mocking them, but Pintel pulled him back.

“We know you’re here, poppets!”

“Poppets,” Ragetti echoed, his voice giddy like a child’s.

“Come out, and we promise we won’t hurt you,” Ragetti looked annoyed, like he’d been told he couldn’t play with new toy he’d just been promised. A look from Pintel, however, assured Ragetti that he was fibbing. “We will find you poppets.”

Inside the small cupboard which was meant to hold the china and tablecloths, the four young people crouched and huddled together. Jonathon was in front, holding a silver candlestick up and ready to use it. Elizabeth was directly behind him and Flora in the back with Joanie. Flora had pressed Joanie’s face into her tartan shawl, hoping it would muffle any sounds the little girl might make. Jonathon followed the pair’s movement’s through the small crack of the door.

“You’ve got something of ours and it calls to us.”

Elizabeth looked back at Flora, specifically to the medallion around her neck.

“The gold calls to us,” Pintel’s voice came at almost a whisper.

Ragetti giggled, “The gold.”

Jonathon was confused, and looked behind him to see Flora had a familiar gold medallion around her neck. In the sliver of light through the crack in the door he saw her pick up the medallion and stare down at it, both in wonder and in horror. The pirates were here for that? And then the light slowly went away, as Pintel’s face blocked it by stepping in front of the cupboard. One yellow eye peered through at them. They had been found.

“Hello, poppets,” He grinned. The cupboard doors open.

Jonathon didn’t know if this would work, but between his candlestick and the pirate carrying a pistol it was their only chance. He bellowed as loud as he could over the pistol being cocked, “Parley!”

Everyone paused, even the pirates. Pintel asked, “What?”

“Parley; I invoke the right of parley!” Jonathon said again desperately.

Elizabeth, his fellow studious friend in pirate lore, stepped from behind him. “Yes, according to the Code of the Brethren set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew you have to take us to your captain.”

“I know the code!” Pintel said, his pistol still raised.

“If an adversary demands parley, you can do them no harm until the parley is complete,” Jonathon hoped this bid them some time; this was their last chance to survive the night. 

His hopes were almost dashed when the skinny pirate, Ragetti, raised his sword and hissed at them, “To blazes with the code!”

But Pintel angrily interjected, “They want to be taken to the captain!” Ragetti lowered his sword, head, and gaze immediately; completely submitting to his partner who turned back to the four in the cupboard. “And they’ll all go without a fuss.”

Oh, no. This wasn’t what Jonathon had in mind. “Just me sirs, I’m the one demanding parley. It’s only me that needs to go.” He could feel the girls behind him subtly protest, horrified at the thought of him being taken away

“Hmm, so you be the only one demanding parley, then?” Pintel asked. Jonathon hesitantly nodded, not liking the gleam in the pirate's eye. “So that means all these pretty ladies are up for grabs?”

Ragetti laughed and made a show of reaching between Jonathon and trying to grab at Elizabeth. She shrieked and jumped back into Flora and Joanie, who were right in the corner.

“No, no. Stop please, okay!” Jonathon yelled, getting in between the girls and the pirates again. “We all claim parley.”

Pintel was getting tired of this now, and decided to make this easy. “Right, so who’s got the gold?” He saw Flora peak from around Elizabeth and raise her hand, reaching at the chain around her neck and producing the medallion. At the sight of it both Pintel and Ragetti bore at the little piece of gold like it was water in the middle of a desert. Flora’s hand shook as she held it up, resisting the urge to chuck it at them to make them go away.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to go, poppets,” Pintel said. “We’re all going to take a walk to the shore, and we’re going to be rowed to see the captain. And if any of you try to run, or make a fuss in general,” he pointed his pistol right at Joanie, who cried out and turned to hide her head into Flora’s bosom, “I’ll shoot the little one first.”

And then he let out the most horrific smile, “We must honor the code.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write. I had to think of so many ways for Jonathon to fight against the pirates since unlike Will, who is a self-taught swordsmen and has ample time and access with weapons, Jonathon has to use whatever he can get his hands on in the kitchen. But he's worked in the gardens and been around regular tools his whole life, so he's familiar with them. He doesn't have a particular style or finesse, it's a heat of the moment fight where he just want to get away and find his sisters
> 
> Also, who saw Ramsey's death coming? I warned at the first chapter that Ramsay and Helen wouldn't be involved too much in the stories and to not get attached to them. Sorry!
> 
> But trust me, you guys have no idea how the parley is going to pan out with Captain Barbossa. The next chapter is when things start to change a bit from what most people read in alternate tellings of COTBP


	8. Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The parley with Capt. Barbossa is rocky, full of jeers and tears. And just when they think they've won, the pirates pull one last trick from up their sleeves

It was after Will had tripped over the sixth body of a Port Royal resident that he swore he would forgo any previous ailment he had against going to hangings and vowed he would go to every single one involving any pirate who dared step foot in Port Royal ever again.

Once he’d heard the yells of the pirates, and the inevitable screams of the townsfolk, Will had rushed to arm himself. He’d grabbed two small axes and once those were secured to his belt he grabbed a sword.

There was no hesitation, he wasn’t even given the chance. Once he took one step outside the smithy door he was greeted by a woman in her nightdress, her face scrunched up from crying in panic as she ran past the smithy, a pirate giving chase with a predatory laugh emanating from his smoking beard.

Will had taken an axe of his belt and threw it at the pirate’s retreating form, it lodged in his back with a cry, and he fell. Will ran forward and took the axe back from the corpse, his feet never stopped moving after that.

Any pirate he came across he flew into action. He blocked, parried, and with a swing of his axe or a lung of his sword he would end it and move onto the next. He knew the citizens would be trying to make their way to the fort, so Will directed anyone he could that way. Gunshots littered the air, but the pirates seemed determined to rob, maim, and murder as much as possible.

At one point Will did stop to take in the area around him, but the number of pirates astounded him. ‘How many are there?’ He wondered. Could one ship truly hold this many vile men?

He saw the baker’s wife running with her daughter. Flora was good friends them and was around the same age as their daughter, Dorrit, who at that moment was clutching her newborn baby to her while they ran. The women stopped abruptly when a tall man came at them from around the corner.

This man was absolutely huge, his physique greater than any man Will had ever seen in Port Royal. He may have been mistaken for a Viking in any other scenario. He carried no sword or pistol, but instead was armed with three grappling hooks chained to a belt around his waist. When Will saw him take two steps toward the terrified women he didn’t hesitate. The large pirate had a grapple in each hand, and was getting ready to bring one down upon them when it was met by Will’s sword. The women quickly ran as Will continued to engage the man, who looked quite cross the boy had denied him this carnage.

His entire arm vibrating with each blow he blocked, Will knew he only had a short amount of time before he tired and the grappled man would overpower him. He crossed his sword with his axe block another blow from the grapple, and then Will tried to tangle one of the chain in his sword like he had with to trap Jack to the rafter.

But the pirate stepped back and then reached with the grapple to snag Will by the back of the neck, pulling him forward. Will slammed against the man’s chest, and from his belt he pulled out an enormous axe and held it to Will’s face.

“Say goodbye,” The pirate yelled menacingly at his face. Will’s eyes widened as he tried to lean back.

At that moment a cannon ball hit the roof of the building behind them, severing the chain that connected the business sign to the structure. It came hurtling towards them, and while the pirate saw it coming and gaped at it, Will ducked out of the way.

The sign swung right into the pirate and threw him through the window, shattering it.

“Goodbye,” Will nodded, gripping his axe to continue on.

He jumped off the steps leading inside the building, and immediately came to a halt. There, near the wharf was a small group of pirates running with their stolen goods, and near the front of the group was a figure in white being dragged along.

Elizabeth looked up at him in that moment, and he saw her mouth his name, _‘Will.’_

He lost his breathe for a moment. Elizabeth was being taken by the pirates. The pirates had made it to the governor’s mansion! But if Elizabeth was here then where was—

“WILL!”

Just behind Elizabeth another pirate was pulling Jonathon along. And behind him was Flora, who despite being roughly dragged kept looking back at something behind her worriedly. Ragetti was near the end, and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes was Joanie. It was her high pitched voice that had called out to him, seeing her eldest brother as a savior amongst the carnage.

The group of pirates dragged his family and Elizabeth behind the wharf, heading for the beach. Will began to take chase and was immediately blocked by a pirate with a smoking beard.

A pirate he was sure he killed earlier.

“Hello,” he waved menacingly at Will, in a way that eerily could have coincided with a _‘Remember me?’._

And then the pirate looked down, which made Will notice the circular grenade that had been tossed at his feet. The pirates beard was full of fuses ready to light them for such an occasion.

But the grenade cut short, a dud. The pirate looked disappointed. Giving a sign of relief, Will looked up at the pirate, ready to cut him down AGAIN and go rescue his family and Elizabeth when two other pirates carrying loot ran behind Will. One of them raised a silver candlestick, maybe the same one Will had broken that morning at the mansion, and brought it down harshly on the back of Will’s head.

He felt his whole skull vibrate, and then he didn’t feel anything as he lost consciousness in the middle of the street, the laughter of the pirates being the last thing he heard.

__________________________________

They had been ordered into the boats two at a time. There had been talk for a moment about separating them into different boats but that was scrapped pretty quickly with their time constraint of the attack. The young people were shoved about as room was made for more pirates to board.

“You two, here between me and Ragetti,” Pintel motioned Jonathon and Flora to the seat near the front. Then he turned to Elizabeth and Joanie, “And you two directly behind us. No funny business.”

The only funny business that could possibly occur happened when the pirates declared they needed more room. Elizabeth quickly pulled Joanie onto her lap to make room and keep the girl away from any wandering hands and jabby knees. But another level of humiliation was added when Flora was forced onto Jonathon’s lap after it was suggested she sit on Pintel’s.

It would have been comforting, even welcomed, if any where else, just laying against Jonathon and having an arm around his neck in an embrace. But instead she clutched to him in fear, balancing precariously in a longboat, and subject to the stares and snickers of the pirates looking at them. Jonathon knew from her stiff posture and her downcast eyes that Flora felt absolutely violated. He hated the lot of them.

Flora’s eyes only looked up, like the rest of them, when the ship came into view. Jonathon had heard from Murtogg and Mullroy some legends here and there about the _Black Pearl_ , and it was just as dark as described. Someone had suggested it was because the ship was singed as it was spat out of Hell along with its captain. And some said it was because the wood had been stained by the blood of its victims coating it like lacquer.

“It’s real,” Flora whispered, “Do you remember it?”

It came out almost like a plea, for him to remember the ship from eight years ago. The one they had all convinced themselves hadn’t really attacked them, hadn’t really almost killed them as children. But here it was, seemingly come back for them. He nodded, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

“Do you have a plan?” Flora had turned her head away from gazing at the figurehead, the lady looming over them. Her face was pressed into the crook of his neck and the whispers tickled his skin.

Without looking down to draw attention to it, he reached toward her neck to trace the chain the medallion was hanging off of. He pulled her shawl over, tucking it in. “Parley is for negotiations. They want the medallion. We want them to leave. Hide it away until then, in case anyone gets sticky fingers.”

They rowed to the side of the ship that had a rough woven ladder hanging off the side. Pintel got up to go and ordered Flora to come next, mumbling something about ladies first. She gulped before clutching the rough rope and started to climb, thankful her shawl was pinned in the front so she wouldn’t lose it. She tried to keep momentum and keep climbing, trying not to think about the pirates that could be trying to gape up her nightdress from below.

When she reached the railing at the top she saw the deck was alive with action. Dozens of men were about, unloading stolen goods and tying ropes and supplies to keep the ship ready for anything. A few stopped to stare as they passed her. One polite fellow stepped forward and offered her his hand. She took it and stepped down. Done with his good deed for the day the pirate stepped back with a small cluster that had gathered and continued to look at her. She adjusted her shawl to cover herself more. Next to her Pintel sniggered.

Flora looked up to the quarter deck and there she saw a lone figure standing, the only one who wasn’t moving in a flurry with the rest of the crew. His silhouetted figure was topped with a large hat, which jostled slightly when what looked like a small monkey swung to sit on the man’s shoulders.

Elizabeth climbed up next and huddled next to Flora. Ragetti pulled himself up and he waited by the railing for a moment before leaning down and pulling Joanie onto the deck, her feet carrying her to the other girls quickly. She had clutched to Jonathon’s back for the climb, and the lad himself stepped onto the deck up just in time for Ragetti to take his arm and lead him forward. Pintel took ahold of both girls arms and followed.

They were stopped by Bo’ sun, a man with skin as black as night who towered over all of them in height and muscles. His body and face were covered in ritualistic scars, and by the way the other pirates stepped back or looked down he was clearly feared.

“I didn’t know we was taking on captives,” Bo’ sun’s deep voice rumbled.

“They’ve invoked the right of parley with Captain Barbossa,” Pintel said, motioning to the lot of them. Jonathon nodded to confirm and Elizabeth stepped forward.

“We are here to negotiate—” Elizabeth started to speak but was cut off by Bo’ sun backhanding her. She gasped and held her cheek, stunned.

“You will speak when spoken,” Bo’ sun declared like it was nothing.

Flora pulled Elizabeth back and away from the man, Joanie hiding herself under Flora’s shawl. Jonathon stepped in front of them when he saw Bo’ sun begin to raise his hand again.

But it was stopped when another hand gripped Bo’ sun’s forearm, gnarled fingers curling tightly against his dark skin.

“And ye’ll not lay a hand on those under the protection of parley,” The shadowy figure from the quarter deck had appeared out of nowhere next to them; seemingly summoned by his name leaving Pintel’s lips. Captain Barbossa. His clothes were a bit more well-kept then the rest and he had an air of authority accentuated by his wide brimmed hat that was adorned with a peacock feather. A capuchin monkey dressed in a little vest and sleeves faithfully perched on his shoulder.

“Aye, sir.” Bo’ sun ripped his arm out the captain’s grasp.

Barbossa turned to the lot of them, taking in the unusual assemblage before him. Some young folks, nay children more like it, in their nightdresses on his deck. The boy was the only one fully dressed for a venture of any kind, and Barbossa was curious as to why they were there. He told a select few of his men to find the gold and whoever had it; he wasn’t expecting a parley in a rich port such as this.

“My apologies, children,” Some of the men sniggered at this, his West Country accent coming through, “What is it you were saying?”

But Elizabeth recovered easily, steely looking into the captain’s eye as she spoke with all the dignity of a politician’s daughter, “Captain Barbossa, we are here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal.”

Barbossa looked amused, “A lot of long words in there, miss. We are naught but humble pirates,” He laughed a little before turning serious, “What is it that you want?”

Jonathon decided to get to the point, figuring the captain was a man who didn’t want his time wasted, “We want you to leave and never come back.”

The pirates surrounding them began to laugh, looking at each other like they couldn’t believe the cheek of them. Flora felt Joanie shift a little upon hearing the laughter, and the girl peeked her head and shifted to the front of Flora’s body as opposed to hiding behind her. Barbossa’s eyes shifted to take in the child who had revealed herself, and Flora wrapped her arms protectively around the girl. But Joanie just had eyes for the monkey, peeking curiously at it.

“I’m disinclined the acquiesce to your request,” Barbossa said airily, breaking any the illusion he was but a humble pirate. He smirked, “Means ‘no’.” Crueler laughter from the crew followed, and Barbossa decided he’d had enough of his deck being a nursemaid meet up. “And if that be all I declare this parley complete then. Toss ‘em over.”

It happened so quickly Flora didn’t even know what she was doing until she felt Joanie being ripped away from her. Ragetti, apparently making due on Pintel’s threat that it would be Joanie who would die first if it came to it, picked the girl up and started walking to the railing, the stringy man giggling the whole way. The rest of the crew, even Jonathon and Elizabeth melted away from her vision as she heard Joanie screaming, reaching back for her, kicking to get out of the Ragetti’s grasp.

Jonathon and Elizabeth were gripped by pirate’s eager to carry out the captain’s orders, but all Flora could think about was that they could swim, they could very well survive the trek back to the bay. Joanie would not.

So she dove forward, reaching for the one arm Joanie had outstretched toward her and pulled hard. A tug-of-war ensued for a moment by the railing, but Flora knew it would be only a matter of time before another pirate got involved and Joanie would be lost to her. Her baby sister.

So with one of Joanie’s arms tightly in her grip, she reached for the chain around her neck and ripped it off, revealing the medallion to the rest of the crew. Ragetti even paused and Flora took the moment to scream at him, “Let her go, this instant! Do it now!” He did and Joanie fell back against her. Then she turned to the rest of the crew and Captain Barbossa, dangling the chain over the side of the ship. “I’ll drop it; I swear I will!”

Barbossa took a step forward and stopped, taking in the sight of the medallion for the first time. He feigned ignorance while he could and turned to his crew for a moment, condescendingly saying, “Me holds are burstin’ with swag! That bit of shine matters to us?” His face immediately shifted to one of cold calculation, “Why?”

But Flora was not having it, “It’s what you and your men have been searching for. We recognize this ship; we saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England!”

That information seemed to peak his interest, “Did ya now?”

To Flora it just came out as a meager attempt to mock her, so she decided that she would reopen the negotiations her own way. She narrowed her eyes and jutted her chin out, “Fine. This thing has brought me and my family nothing but bad luck as of late, and if you claim it really is worthless than I see no point in me keeping it.”

And the medallion slipped several inches from her hand before she quickly gripped it again. The result was instantaneous.

“No!” Barbossa and his entire crew surged forward in an attempt to stop her. The echo of one footstep from each man was thunderous before they came to a stop, realizing they’d been had.

In their distraction Jonathon and Elizabeth walked out of their captor’s grips and quickly made their way over to stand in front of Flora and Joanie. Knowing they now had the upper hand gave them a complacent feeling.

Barbossa knew he’d shown his hand, and though part of him wanted to throttle the girl he was never the less impressed with her. He strolled forward and chuckled, amused when the girl snatched the chain back from the railing, clutching the medallion in her right hand and the little girl tightly to her left. _‘Keeping her treasures close,’_ He thought. _‘Smart, but you also have shown your hand, missy.’_

“What be your names, children?” He asked, reinstating the negotiations.

“I’m Jonathon, Captain. And these are my sisters,” He nodded to the girls. Elizabeth was so relieved when Jonathon claimed her as a McAdams in that moment. She had wondered if the pirates would figure out who her father was and possibly use her as a ransom.

“All of them?” Barbossa asked, and for a moment Jonathon was worried, but the captain said, “As someone who grew up with six pretty sisters himself, you’re a lucky man. Count your blessings, son.”

Jonathon blinked, not knowing what to do with that compliment. Barbossa then asked, “And how did you come across that bit of shine there, lass?”

“It was a gift from my father,” Flora said.

“And your father would be?”

“Ramsay McAdams,” Jonathon quickly said, but Barbossa saw the look the girl gave the lad. “He’s a butler in the governor’s household. We are all on staff as well, that’s why your crew found us there.”

“It’s true, my sister and I are maids,” Elizabeth nodded to Flora and herself.

Barbossa however looked skeptical, “I’m having trouble believing a butler would have the resources to come across a piece such as that, me knowing just far it’s traveled across the seas,” He took another step forward, “These negotiations don’t work unless we be honest. So do you want to be trying telling me the truth now or shall I start resume throwing you over one by one until I’m sure?”

Flora stepped forward, knowing they’d been caught in one of their white lies. But clearly the captain needed this information and she saw no harm in coming out with the truth if it saved them in the end.

“Forgive my step-brother, please! Ramsay McAdams is his father—and Elizabeth’s as well,” With Elizabeth’s coloring being closer to Jonathon’s she knew they could at least get away with that. She promised Liz that she wouldn’t let the pirates take her, so she’d do her best to keep the Swann name out of it. “He raised me after marrying my mother nine years ago. That’s why we all proudly call him father, please forgive us the misconception,” Not wanting to make him angry she added, “We didn’t think it important.”

“Right, so it be your father who gave you the medallion?” Barbossa asked, her nodding. “And what be your name, missy? Full Christian name, if you please.”

“The whole thing?” She was confused at why he needed to know, but decided to relinquish to him the bounty of names her mother gave her, “Flora Isobel Boudica Turner,” her accent became more pronounced with each name, “We’re Scottish.” She shrugged at the captain, as if that would explain everything. Will had an extra middle name as well.

It seemed to satisfy something for him. His eyes widened, and nodding he turned around to his men, smiling, “Introducing, Miss Turner, gents.” A ripple seemed to go through the crew. They surreptitiously exchanged nods and glances at one another, whispers and stares aimed in her direction.

Barbossa turned back to her, “A gift from your father you say? And did he mention where it came from?”

She grew solemn, “No, it came with his death notification. He was a merchant sailor, he died at sea about ten years ago,” He furrowed his eye at her, scrutinizing what she was telling him and she grew afraid he wouldn’t believe her, “I swear I don’t know where he got it. If he stole it from you or wasn’t meant to have it, I’m sorry but we didn’t know.”

“Please, sir—” Jonathon stepped in, afraid this would escalate. But Barbossa raised his hand up to the lad, silencing him.

“My negotiations are with the lady here,” He turned his eyes to Joanie, who ducked her gaze to avoid it. “And where does the wee one fit in here?”

“She’s from the marriage of my mother and Jonathon’s father,” Flora answered.

“Ah, very well,” he nodded, and finally seemed satisfied with his round of questions and held his hand out, “You hand it over and we’ll put your town to our rudder and never return.”

She stared at his open hand unconvinced. There was no way this could be so simple, until she remembered, “And we’ll be returned to shore? Alive and unharmed.”

He paused and had the gall to almost look offended, “I promise on me honor as a captain that all you McAdams brood will be returned to shore, alive and sound.”

She had his word. He could have taken the medallion at any time. This was their way out so why did this seem like a trap?

“Really?” She asked, hating how much she sounded like a child.

He fixed her with a hard look, “We’ve got everything we came for.”

His fingers flexed, so she reached out and dropped the medallion into it, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’ve got sand, for a maid.”

“Thank you?” She said, not sure how Will would take her getting compliments from pirates.

The monkey took the the medallion from Barbossa and scurried up a piece of rope, after they’d watched it disappear out of sight she reminded him, “Our bargain?”

He nodded and turned around to give orders to his men, one of which was to have a boat ready to take them back. After some words with the captain Bo’ sun started shouting other orders about signaling the men back, stowing the guns, and making ready to clear port. Flora let out a breath when she realized the pirates were actually doing what they’d asked; they were leaving Port Royal.

She felt so lightheaded for a moment that she didn’t perceive Jonathon right in front of her until he’s taken her face in both his hands and kissed her forehead, his whispers coming out in hot puffs, “You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” He pulled her into an embrace and she felt him kiss the top of her hair as well.

“I feel like I’m going to vomit,” She confessed. That sinking feeling that they hadn’t won anything was still there, but she told herself they were just nerves over the negotiations that had just taken place, “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Well, wait until we get over the water to be sick,” Elizabeth said and Flora turned to hug her as well, whispering to her, “You were amazing.”

“I’m sorry he hit you. Does it hurt?” Flora asked, referring to Bo’ sun’s slap. Elizabeth subconsciously touched her face where a bruise would probably form by morning, but she stood tall with a steel she’d always had.

“Barely felt it, and if that’s all I walk away with after tonight then I consider that a win,” she smiled.

They all stood by the railing, watching the men set about working to get the ship ready to make way. Most of the longboats seemed to have returned and the deck was alive with activity. There were at least fifty men from what they could see and it baffled them that it only took that many to do so much damage to Port Royal. Elizabeth hoped her father was at the fort when the attack took place and that he was safe, and that Will hadn’t been killed after she’d seen him on the way to the longboats.

Flora stood close to Jonathon and took his hand, a breeze coming across the water that made her shiver. They could see the light s in the town through the fog, as well as some of the fire caused by the cannons.

“I can’t wait to get off this ship and go home,” She said.

He nodded, but his mouth stayed at a firm line as he kept his eyes straight ahead. Trying to see if he could make out the mansion up on the hill, he fought the urge to turn around and kill any pirate that came near him; wondering if they were the one to pull the trigger when the front door had opened. When his father answered.

“He’s still there, back at the house,” Jonathon said, and Flora looked up at him. “My father.”

She squeezed his arm reassuringly, letting him know she was there and he wasn’t alone in this. That none of them would be alone in this. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried not to shudder when she remembered how the pirates had made them all step over Ramsay’s body as they left the house, how Joanie had cried for a moment and they had feared she would be shot for it. But it just caused Ragetti to put the girl over his shoulder as they started to run into town.

“We’ll bury him next to Ma,” Flora said. “We’ll make sure the minister resides over it. It’ll be done right like he deserved.” She wasn’t just doing this for Jonathon; Ramsay raised her from the time she was twelve and couldn’t have asked for a better step-father. What she had said to Barbossa was true.

“And then after that?” Jonathon asked, finally looking down at her.

She wasn’t sure if he needed to be told what they’d do in the days followed or in the broad future ahead of them. To be frank she didn’t know and decided to be honest with him; after all she couldn’t always be the strong one. “We’ll see about it in the morning, go from there”

It seemed to placate him for now.

“Where’s the monkey gone?” They heard Joanie peep from beside Elizabeth. She hadn’t said a word since they’d been brought aboard and kept her movements low and restrained. Even now her arms were folded as she leaned against Elizabeth, one of her hands right up at her mouth as she absently chewed on her fingers. Any more frights tonight and she’d probably go back to sucking her thumb.

“Is that Beanie?” Flora asked, seeing scraps of stuffed cloth tucked between Joanie’s chin and chewed hand. Her little cloth doll they made her as a baby was always in an apron pocket or under her pillow. It had been torn enough times to require stitching that would make a doctor wince, and they’d stuff it with any dry beans or grains they could find to replenish its softness. Flora did not recall seeing the doll all evening until now. “Where’ve you been keeping him?”

“I put him up my sleeve so he wouldn’t fall,” she replied so pathetically all Flora wanted to do was gather her and Beanie up in the tightest squeeze. She was about to do just that when Pintel approached them and motioned to an empty dingy that was hanging closer to the bow of the ship.

She took Joanie’s hand as they were led to what was clearly an older dingy the crew wouldn’t mind being rid of. It seemed they would be going to shore without a pirate to escort them and bring it back. It was much smaller than a longboat, just enough for them and a pair of oars.

Some of the crew had stopped to gather near them, which looked like a very strange send off indeed. Flora supposed it wasn’t ever day the crew got to interact with outsiders such as them, especially young women in their nightclothes. But she’d had enough of their lecherous stares and was ready to go home. On the other side of the deck she caught sight of that plumed hat and knew the captain was looking over at them as well, a shadow of a smile on his face.

“Right, in there you lot,” Pintel motioned with his pistol toward the dingy.

Jonathon stepped forward and motioned for Elizabeth, “Liz, you in first. Then Flora and then I’ll hand Joanie over.”

Taking Elizabeth’s hand, he held the dingy steady as she stepped in. Once she was seated Flora took his hand and went to step up but was stopped by the cock of Pintel’s pistol.

“Not you, poppet.” He was pointing it right at her.

She froze, “What?”

Jonathon’s grip on her hand tightened and he turned to Pintel, “What?”

Pintel shrugged, “Captain’s orders. She stays.”

Jonathon turned his head quickly to look at her Flora, confusion in his eyes. While she processed what she had just been told she didn’t see Ragetti and another pirate come behind her. But Jonathon did, and pulled her forward in a last ditch effort to bring her into the dingy. But Ragetti grabbed Flora’s arm and started to tug her away. Jonathon wrapped an arm around Flora’s waist and his other around the railing in an effort to keep them grounded while he struggled against them.

He could hear Elizabeth yelling at the pirates to stop, to leave Flora be, and her hands desperately gripped Jonathon’s arm should he lose his grip on the railing.

“Stop it!” Jonathon yelled at the pirates, his eyes searching out Barbossa who was making his way toward them, “You said we could leave!”

“You agreed!” Elizabeth screamed from the dingy, held back by Pintel’s pistol on her, “According to the Code of the Brethren you must—”

“First, your return to shore was part of the agreement, but I said only for the McAdams children. And since this one—” He reached forward and with a hidden strength Jonathon was sure took many enemies unaware, he effortlessly pulled Flora out of Jonathon’s grip and hauled her to his side, “—be a Turner, then I must do nothin’.”

“Secondly, you must be a pirate for the pirate’s code to apply and you’re not. Be lucky I agreed to parley with you at all!” Flora winced, his his sharp nails digging into the arm with every point he made. “And thirdly, the code is more of that you’d call guidelines then actual rules,” Then Barbossa pulled out his sword and held it to Flora’s neck, causing all of them to freeze. “Count your blessing lad and get on the boat, or these be the last friendly words the girl hears.”

Pintel pulled Jonathon by the scruff of his shirt and forced him into the dingy, his shoes felt like they were filled with stones. The crushing helplessness he felt was only matched by Flora as she watched her family and friend being forced to leave without her.

“Girl, quit your blubbering and get on the boat!” Pintel shouted at Joanie, who during the struggle with the pirates had taken several steps toward Flora and Barbossa, her arms outstretched wanting to reach for her older sister.

Barbossa regarded her with bored look, the girl making no effort to move as her little red face screwed up as tears escaped her eyes. She eventually buried her face in one arm and started bawling, and Flora saw one of the pirate’s itch to go over and remove her.

Conscious of the sharp steel pressed to her throat, she whispered to the captain, “Let me go to her,” When she saw his eyes shift to her she tried again, “Let me take her to the boat, to say goodbye. I won’t cause trouble.”

She felt his grip loosen as he gave one nod, a warning to her as if she ever needed one. The moment the steel left her throat she rushed and gathered Joanie in her arms, “Sh sh sh, come here,” Joanie wrapped her arms around Flora’s neck as she was picked up, clinging to her, her tears wetting the tartan shawl. Joanie peeked up from Flora’s hair and gave the pirates the most ferocious glare she could as Flora walked over to the dingy where Jonathon and Elizabeth were still forced to sit in.

Flora tried to speak quickly and calmly to her sister, trying to keep her own panic of the fate that awaited herself at bay. “Luv, listen to me. You’ll be going back to shore with Jonathon and Liz, and I need you to mind Jonathon now alright?” She made it to the dingy and tried to dislodge Joanie from her person. “Jon, take her please!”

Jonathon reached over and pulled Joanie’s arms from Flora’s neck, the girl whining as she was transferred to the dingy with him. Elizabeth reached forward and embraced her, Flora returning it. “I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth whispered over and over, herself near tears. But Flora assured her she would be fine, hoping her voice didn’t betray her own fear. Elizabeth assured her, “I’ll speak to my father, the commodore even. We’ll come after you, I promise.”

And then Flora moved on to Jonathon, the pain in eyes was almost too much for her to bare. She couldn’t stand it if he blamed himself for their predicament when in reality it was him calling the parley that was the entire reason they’d survived this far. Picturing their dead bodies being discovered in that cupboard filled her with dread.

He grasped her to him desperately, the dingy tilting a bit as it shifted in weight balance. Their foreheads touched as they gazed at each other, trying to convey how much they cared, how much they loved each other. They’d always been private about it, and an entire ship full of pirates gaping openly at their display flustered them. She kissed his forehead and pulled his head down so she could rest her chin atop his head, just wanting to feel him close.

“I can’t leave you here, I can’t!” He desperately whispers to her and she can tell he wants to cry. And with that she amended her previous thoughts from earlier and decided that tonight she could be the strong one for him, at least this one last time.

“You’re not leaving me here. I’m telling you to go.” She said

“I don’t know what they’ll do to you!” He cried.

“But I know what they’d do to you, to all of you! So I need you take Liz and Joanie and get them home,” She took his face between her hands and when he looked like he’d protest again she silenced him with a quick peck on his lips and whispered, “Eldest says.”

Barbossa had decided they’d had enough and ordered Pintel to begin lowering the boat. Joanie rushed to the dingy’s side and grasped Flora’s hand, crying, “No, Flo! Come with us, please!”

As her family descended, Flora tried to assure Joanie, “It’s going to be okay, I’ve got to stay with the captain right now, alright. Jon’s going to take you home and tuck you into bed, and this will all just be a bad dream.”

“Take Beanie!” The cloth doll was shoved into Flora’s hands as the tops of their heads disappeared, the pulleys of the rope squeaking as she peered over the railing to watch and make sure they made it safely.

Once the boat was lowered and the ropes detached the dingy just sat stagnant in the water, neither Elizabeth or Jonathon made moves to pick up the oars or even push away from the Black Pearl. The waves gently started taking them away, but the occupants of the dingy didn’t stop looking up at the shrinking figure of Flora at the railing. The last they saw of her was when someone hauled her away from side, and they heard the insidious voice of Barbossa bellow out:

“Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl,_ Miss Turner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was long, over 6,000 words and I almost split it in half to make you wait for the ending.
> 
> So did you see that coming with Flora being taken? This is where I might lose some people because in a lot of stories like this usually the OC and Elizabeth are taken together on the Black Pearl, and I almost did that but coordinating it in my head just never worked out. I've decided to make this Flora's time on the Black Pearl a valuable way to explore her character development. 
> 
> But don't worry, this doesn't mean Elizabeth is going to sit out this story at all. She's going to be along for the ride and continue to be written as the complicated and strong character that she is. Flora is not a replacement for Elizabeth and their journeys are going to show how different they are. Both women will be brave and cunning in their own way. You've already seen it in the last couple of chapters; Elizabeth is very take-charge and Flora a nurturer. But those traits do not cast them negatively, it's just a reflection of their personalities and their upbringing.


	9. Spring the Sparrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will desperately seeks the fate of his family before turning to someone he never thought to for help in rescuing Flora

His dreams had muddled together, voices calling out from all different directions making him feel like he was hearing through murky water. Opening his eyes hurt for a moment, the morning sun glaring down on him as he winced. Will shut his eyes again and reached his hand out, and instead of feeling his mattress beneath him he felt dirt and stone.

For a moment he forgot what day it was. He heard children nearby and briefly thought if Joanie had snuck out of bed early and was awake. Whenever she spent nights at the smithy she could fit in the bed next to him, her still being small enough to fit, small enough to be carried up in a hug, to be tossed over a shoulder….over another man’s shoulder……screaming for him to help her….

Will sat up quickly, his head aching and he took in the absolute mess around him. Wood, pieces of stone, food, bodies were strewn about. People were trying to clean up what they could of their lives, help the injured and dead around him. In the daylight it seemed even worse, with the pirates gone the aftermath was dismal with how much they had truly lost. Where was his family? Elizabeth?

Standing up quickly, he made sure his swords and axes were still with him and he ran up the northern road, toward the manor. When he made it there he saw the iron gate, where he had lovingly gazed at Elizabeth just hours earlier, had been pushed open. Approaching the house, he saw windows had been broken, and the open front door served as a horrific beckoning to what his family had endured last night. Gravely stepping over a large puddle of what looked like dried blood he walked inside.

Shelves and tables had been knocked down, all drawers open and looted. My god there were actually large holes in the wall. Had the cannons been able to reach this far?

“FLORA!” He yelled, running to the back toward the servant’s quarters near the kitchen. None of the food appeared to be touched, but the silver had been most definitely been seen to. It appeared that Flora hadn’t slept in her bed, or they’d been attacked before she retired for the evening. He checked under the beds and found no one hiding, he called out, “JOANIE?”

His voice echoed with each name he cried out, and with no answer his panic started to grow.

“JONATHON!”

He ran up the stairs, ignored every bit of propriety telling him to stay away from Elizabeth’s bedchamber, but he had to see. The door had been broken through, burnt out coal littered the open doorway that led to her bed, on which the covers had been hastily thrown off.

“ELIZABETH!”

Had she been in dragged from her bed? Had Flora been with her at the time? Did Jonathon see the girls in danger and attempt to intervene? How did the pirates manage to collect all of them out the house? And why?

He walked out the bedroom and started down the stairs, stopping when he came to the curve in the railing that let him take in the whole entrance way, “PA!” He yelled for his stepfather.

The large house was completely empty, except for Will and some ghosts.

He knew they were gone. They had been taken.

Running to the fort was the only place he could of. He saw the pirates with Elizabeth and his siblings, but he hadn’t seen his stepfather. The fort was probably where the governor and the commodore had gathered, along with anyone else seeking safety last night. He bet his stepfather would be there, trying to find out what happened to his children, if he hadn’t found the rest of them already.

He ran into the fort, passing by two soldiers who were carrying a bleeding man between them where it looked like they’d set up a sick bay under a long tent. Spying Commodore Norrington next to Governor Swann gathered around a table, he dashed toward them.

“They’ve taken them! They’ve taken my family! Elizabeth!” Will breathlessly said, coming to a stop.

“Mr. Murtogg, please escort Mr. Turner down to the tents,” Norrington said, barely taking his eyes off the map on the table before him.

The marine went to do just that, but Will shrugged him off, “Did you not hear me? I saw the pirates taking them away toward the shore. We must save them!”

Finally, Norrington looked up, meeting Will’s eyes albeit reluctantly, “Mr. Turner, please allow Mr. Murtogg to take you down the tents. Once everything is explained you may come back and we will brief you on developments.”

Still angry at the possibility of his family’s abduction being taken so lightly, he allowed himself to be led at the other end of the open courtyard, passing the destroyed gallows along the way. He was led to small tent, most likely meant for private meetings between small parties, Mr. Murtogg opening the flap to let him in.

Joanie was the first to see him. She had been sitting on Estrella’s lap, still in her nightgown and clearly bone tired from her ordeal the night before. When she looked up and saw him she screamed, Estrella was so startled she’d nearly fallen out of the chair when the little girl propelled herself toward Will.

He knelt down and caught her, and the feeling of her in his arms and safe crumbled the wall of determination he’d kept up morning trying to locate them. Seeing Joanie being carried away by that pirate had left him to imagine the worst things that could have happened to her; a girl child amongst those wretched men who murdered and ravaged without remorse. Tears escaped his eyes as he clutched her close to him, minding how he was probably being too tight with her but he didn’t care.

“Will.”

Opening his eyes through his tears he saw Jonathon, who looked just as shocked to see him there as he was to find them. Will beckoned Jonathon forward and when he was close enough he grasped the back of his head and pulled his step-brother to him as well, just needing a moment to hold them both.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Elizabeth’s voice came from a cot at the back of the tent. She had been sitting on it and stood to come greet him as well.

Happiness couldn’t even begin to describe how Will felt in that moment. He had thought Elizabeth and his family lost forever, dead at the hands of evil men. Even Estrella being here filled him with sweet jubilation. He looked around to see if anyone else was in the tent, but found no other familiar faces.

“Where’s Flora, is she with your father?” He asked Jonathon.

Jonathon froze under Will’s hand, and he pulled back to look at him. Will saw confusion and sorrow in his eyes before he said softly, “My father’s dead, Will.”

Joanie whimpered and buried her face in Will’s neck.

“What happened?” Will asked, hardly believing what he’d been told. Throughout the morning he’d been so focused on finding his siblings and Elizabeth that he hadn’t given thought to the fate of Ramsay, who he had assumed was able to flee the manor since he hadn’t seen the man being taken by the pirates.

“He answered the door,” Was all Jonathon would say, looking at Joanie in his arms to indicated he didn’t want to say anymore in front of her.

Will paled when he realized whose blood that was at the entrance way.

“And Flora?” Will was so afraid to ask, the look on Jonathon’s face telling him he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

“Taken.”

Will nearly dropped Joanie in shock.

A few minutes later Will, Jonathon and Elizabeth were taken back to Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann, who looked at his daughter with chagrin. Elizabeth was still in her nightdress but had acquired a long gentlemen’s jacket to cover her in the meantime. He would have preferred for her to stay in the tent.

“We have to hunt them down. We have to get Flora back!” Will exclaimed.

“And where do you propose we start?” Governor Swann asked, himself quite exacerbated. “If you have any information concerning your sister, please share it.” When Will could offer nothing the governor continued, “From what my daughter and your family have told me, the pirates didn’t care to share where they were headed next so we have no heading to speak of.”

It was Murtogg whose voice offered a sliver of hope to the situation. “That Jack Sparrow. He talked about the _Black Pearl_.”

“He did!” Jonathon confirmed, pointing.

“Mentioned it, more what he did,” Mullroy corrected.

“He shows up to Port Royal the morning of and speaks of the very ship that attacks us that night? That’s no coincidence,” Jonathon argued.

Will looked back to Norrington, who was charting something on his map. “Ask him where it is! Make a deal with him, anything. He could lead us to it.”

“No,” Norrington sighed. “The pirates who invaded this fort left him locked in his cell, ergo they are not his allies.”

“We must do something!” Elizabeth pleaded.

Norrington looked at Elizabeth and nodded before turning back to the governor, “We will establish their most likely course—”

Will felt the axe in hand snatched away, Jonathon clearly having had enough of ‘likely’ and ‘maybe’ where it concerned Flora. He threw it on the table, embedding the map to it.

“That’s not good enough!” He yelled.

“We’re wasting time!” Will shouted

Norrington looked down at the axe very calmly before removing it. He then walked around the table to face the young men. “Mr. McAdams, Mr. Turner, you are not military men and you are not sailors. Despite whatever careers aspiration one of you may have it trickles down to you being a blacksmith and gardener,” He handed the axe back to Will before roughly grasping both their arms and pulling them away and to the side. “And this is not the moment for rash actions!”

The commodore saw the way the lads looked at him, how all of this must seem to people like them who were not used to planning military campaigns. But he needed them to understand that the best way to achieve any hope was careful calculations. He lowered his voice so only they would be privy to what he said next, “Do not think we are being unkind, that we are oblivious to your loss. Look at the marines at this very meeting,” he motioned vaguely to Murtogg and Mullroy nearby. “There is hardly a face in these barracks, or a family member of theirs here in Port royal who is not familiar with your sister and her kindness. The governor himself is indebted to your sister, again, for helping bring Elizabeth back from the grasp of pirates.”

He stepped back, his voice resonating again, “Leave this to us, gentlemen. My lady,” he nodded to Elizabeth, “We know what we’re doing.”

After Norrington went back to confer with the other marines, the boys walked back to the tent. Well, more like Will stormed back and Jonathon tried to keep up. Joanie was sitting on the little cot with Estrella, using a piece of frayed thread to play cats cradle.

“Estrella, could I ask you a favor?” The other maid nodded, “Can you look after Joanie for a bit?”

“Of course. I might be able to get back to the manor later and get her some fresh clothes. Would that be alright?”

“Yes,” He paused as Jonathon entered the tent behind him, looking at him suspiciously. Will suspected that Jon knew what he was planning to do, “And for some reason should something happen, would you continue to take care of her? Or at least find someone who will?”

Estrella paused at this. Jonathon stepped forward and looked at her imploringly, “We’re going to help get Flora back. But if we shouldn’t make it back there’s some papers in my father’s drawer, with letters to a cousin we have in the Carolinas. If no one in Port Royal can keep her, please see she is sent to them.”

“But boys—”

“Please, Estrella!” Jonathon pleaded. “And don’t ask us any details, please.”

Estrella nodded, putting an arm around Joanie and keeping her close. Both the boys went to hug Joanie goodbye, telling her nothing except that they were going to get Flora back and that she had to be good for Estrella.

“Estrella will take you to get some clothes soon, and you can be back with your toys and grab Beanie—” Will assured her.

“Flora has Beanie. I gave him to her so she wouldn’t be alone on the ship,” Joanie said.

Will paused, kissing Joanie’s forehead, “Well then I suppose we’ll just have to bring back Flora AND Beanie to you, then!”

_________________________________

After seeing no sign of the dog for ages, Jack had sharpened off the end of the bone he’d tried to lure the little beast in with earlier. He had been attempting to pick the lock for the past couple of hours, knowing time had been extended for his execution due to the attack last night.

When Twigg and Koehler had entered the jail, mistaking it for the armory, he didn’t know whether to it was a blessing or a blight that he’d been locked in the cell. If he had been free he was sure they would have tried to kill him, instead they had laughed at his plight and left him to his humiliation. But not before revealing that the curse was real.

If anyone deserved to be cursed it was Barbossa and that lot. The mutiny and the marooning were the lowest points of Jack’s life, even Cutler Beckett branding him as a pirate had not hurt that much. He’d always hoped to one day get the ship back, but with the crew now confirmed before his very eyes to be impervious to harm, that was unlikely.

Suddenly hearing someone coming down the stairs and quickly, Jack abandoned his bone key in the lock and lay back to pretend he was sleeping.

Will and Jonathon ran to his cell, noting it was by sheer luck the cannonball hadn’t taken out the whole wall and allowed him to escape. He called out, “You, Sparrow!”

“Aye,” Jack ‘woke up’. He saw the two boys he’d encountered separately yesterday standing outside his cell. Considering he’d pushed one off a dock and threatened to shoot the other he doubted they were here for a friendly visit and prepared himself.

“You’re familiar with that ship, the _Black Pearl_?”

Jack wasn’t expecting that, but never the less acted coy and shrugged, “I’ve heard of it.”

“Where does it make berth?” Jonathon asked.

“Where does it make berth?” Jack asked, wondering if these boys had ever been to sea before with that kind of terminology. “Have you not heard the stories?”

Will shook his head, Jonathon shrugged, “Some here and there.”

Jack lay back in the straw, “Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants sail from the dreaded Isla de Muerte. It’s an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is.”

“The ship is real enough,” Will concluded, “Therefore its anchorage must real as well. Where is it?”

“Why ask me?” Jacked asked airily.

“Because you’re a pirate.”

“And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?”

Will angrily gripped the bars, “Never!” He spat. But Jack looked unimpressed and lay his head back and inspected his nails in a blasé fashion. Will huffed, knowing he had to tell him why. “They took my sister.”

Jack stopped and raised an eyebrow at them, “Last I checked you had two, so which one was it? The wee one who stole me hat, or the pretty one who hit me with a bottle?” He gold teeth shone as he grinned at them. “Because if it’s the wee one I doubt they’ll keep her long, she’s so irksome they’ll probably pay YOU to take her back.”

“It was Flora they took,” Jonathon said. “They don’t want a ransom. They wanted the medallion she had on her person, the same one you saw on Miss Swann yesterday after you saved her from the water.”

“Ah, I see,” Jack could tell the boy was itching to ask about the medallion, but Jack saw an opportunity brewing. He’d been answering a lot of questions but the boys hadn’t been giving him an incentive. “If you’re intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue and so, impress whatever fair ladies you two pine for, then you’ll have to do it on your own. I see no profit in it for me.”

Will knew it might come to this, and he sighed, knowing this would probably seal their fate, “I can get you out of here.”

“You can?” Jonathon asked.

Jack looked skeptical, “How’s that? The key’s run off.”

“Oh yeah, where is Chopper?” Jonathon asked brightly, looking around the cells for the little mutt.

“It has a name?” Jack asked sarcastically, “That would have helped immensely earlier trying to lure him over.”

Will pointed to the sharpened bone in the lock, “Is that when you tried this? It would have taken too long. I helped build these cells.” He stood back, taking them in. “These are half-pin barrel hinges. With the right leverage, a fulcrum, and the proper application of strength,” He turned around to find something he could use, spotting the bench nearby, “Jon, help me with this. The door should just lift free.”

Both boys grabbed the bench placed the bottom support against the bar, showing Jack this could work. Jack meanwhile was staring at Will, that face he was so sure he recognized back when he’d first encountered him and his sister at the smithy was coming back to him. He had to be sure, though.

“What’s your name?”

“Will Turner. And this is my step-brother, Jonathon McAdams.”

Jack stood up straighter, “That would be short for William, I imagine. Good strong name. No doubt named for your father, eh?”

Both boys paused before Will answered warily, “Yes.”

“And this sister of yours, I’m guessing you two are close?”

“Of course.”

“I imagine sisters are a funny thing to have,” Jack lamented, “And no matter how old you get they have the predetermination to watch over you and take liberties to boss you around. Is she older or younger?”

Will narrowed his eyes, “We’re twins.”

“Ah,” Jack looked down, his eyes calculating. He saw it all fall before him, his path to get the _Black Pearl_ back, to finally confront Barbossa and use that bullet he’d been carrying around for so long. He began to stand up, “Well Messrs Turner and McAdams, I’ve changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell I swear on pain of death I shall take you to the _Black Pearl_ and your bonny sister.” He held out his hand for them to shake. “Do we have an accord?”

William looked down at his hand full of ringed fingers, and then back at Jonathon. His step-brother nodded and they each shook his hand, “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” Jack echoed. “Get me out, lads.”

Both of the boys pushed against the bench and then pulled on the opposite end to pivot it upward, lifting the bars of the cell up and out of of hinges. The door of the cell squealed as it came undone and clattered to the floor, Jack walking out.

“Hurry, someone will have heard that,” Will said.

“Yes, they would have.” All three men turned when a female voice came from the stairs. Elizabeth stood before them, still wearing the men’s coat she had been given earlier to cover up, but instead of a nightgown underneath she had a simple white shirt and some navy issued breeches. She must have changed while Will was waiting for Jonathon to grab a sword from the smithy.

“Ah, Miss Swann, good to see you again,” Jack said jovially, seemingly the only one not fretful about her being there, and went about collecting his effects.

“Elizabeth,” Will froze, and then took in her attire. “Where did you get those clothes?”

She shrugged, “Jonathon’s not the only one who gets tours here once in a while. I know where they keep the spare uniforms.”

“You actually serious about joining the navy, mate?” Jack asked, holstering his pistol.

“Ask me later if we get caught aiding your escape,” Jonathon mumbled.

“Oh, you would have been caught by now,” Elizabeth pointed out, her lips in a tight line. “In fact, twice I sent away a soldier who wanted to come down here. So what’s the plan?”

Will straightened up immediately, “No, no Elizabeth, you’ve done enough. I have no idea where Sparrow is taking us, it’s going to be too dangerous.” He already had a sister in peril, he couldn’t stand it if Elizabeth got hurt because he couldn’t protect her.

Elizabeth marched over to him determinedly, “Will, have you forgotten I was aboard that ship as well last night? I’ve seen these men with my own eyes and I know exactly what they are capable of.” She subconsciously put her hand to the side of her face where Bo ‘sun had struck her. “It could have easily been me Barbossa chose to keep on that ship. I can’t leave Flora there.”

“Exactly!” Will argued back. “They attacked us here where we live and look how easily they destroyed everything. And now we are going after them where they are truly at home.”

She stepped closer, and Will held his breath for a moment. A small part of him hating that he thought how easy it would be to kiss her right now. She glared at him, not with hate, but determination. “I’m not asking.”

Jonathon had enough and turned to Jack, “Maybe it's you we should be asking. You know what we’re about to go up against.”

“Quite right!” Jack was beginning to like this boy, already coming to recognize that Jack knew what he was doing. Most of the time at least.

Jack swaggered over to Elizabeth, getting very much into her personal space and stared at her intently, taking her aback. All three of them looked confused and didn’t know how to break the awkward silence before Jack turned back to the boys and declared simply, “She’s coming.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shot up in surprise, “Really?”

“Why?” Will asked, having a feeling he wouldn’t like Jack’s reasoning.

Jack shrugged, “Lass has moxie, even for a patrician. That will come in handy where we have to sail to rescue this sister of yours. Plus, she’d be a great fallback plan.”

“Fallback plan?” Elizabeth frowned.

“You’re the governor’s daughter, are you not?” Jack asked, and when she nodded he said, “Should the worst come to it and the navy catch up to us, you dearie will have to act the innocent debutante I know the powdered wigs assume you are and allow us time to escape.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, “You want to ransom me? Use me as a distraction?”

“Yes,” Jack said. He could tell this outcome miffed her, as it would anyone, but he found it better to be honest on that matter. “But that’s only if the navy catches up to us, which if this works, I don’t plan on letting happen.”

“And what exactly is your plan to get us to the _Black Pearl_?” Jonathon asked.

Jack looked at Will, “First we need to go to the shore, do some reconnaissance, but before we do that,” he turned back to look at Elizabeth’s attire and then to Jonathon, “You, boy. How would you like to join the navy albeit a bit briefly?”

_____________________________________________

Jack and Will hid under the bridge, checking the shore before spotting their intended target.

“We’re going to steal a ship?” Will asked, before seeing which one Jack had in mind: The _Dauntless_. “That ship?!”

“Commandeer,” Jack corrected, “We are going to commandeer that ship; nautical term.” He sensed Will’s trepidation and turned back to look at him. “One question about your business boy or there’s no use going. This sister of yours, how far are you willing to go to save her?”

Without hesitation Will bared his teeth, “I’d die for her. Her and Elizabeth both.”

“Oh good,” Jack said cheerfully. “No worries then.”

They slunk to the beach just in time to avoid a quad of soldiers running past. They had ducked under an overturned rowboat and waited for the sound of marching feet to pass by. Then the rowboat lifted up, two sets of feet walking underneath, and made its way into and finally under the water.

Walking on the floor of the bay underneath the Caribbean waters, Jack and Will held onto the sides of the rowboat while their heads remained dry in the pocket of air trapped underneath. Will marveled at it. “This is either madness, or brilliance.”

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide,” Jack replied.

“I’d hope so, especially with what you have Jonathon and Elizabeth doing,” Will secretly hoped that those two would not succeed, would decide to let Will and Jack go on this dangerous venture themselves.

“You need to learn to share the burdens every once in a while, young Will. But I imagine you and your sister being the eldest of the broad you’re used to shouldering a lot of it,” Jack said, trekking along.

“It’s Flora who bares more burdens then I. My whole family works in the governor’s mansion while I work and live in town. Ever since our mother died it’s her who sees to it that we’re all content and happy,” Will trailed off. The image of Flora looking back despite the pirate dragging her forward, all to make sure Joanie was still behind them, would burn in his memory. He hoped that wouldn’t be the last time he saw her. “I failed her; I should have made sure they were all safe before fighting the pirates in town."

Jack shook his head, the bottoms of his dreadlocks swinging a few droplets. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, mate. Then you would have been taken as well.” It was a light attempt to ease the boy’s guilt. Will assumed Jack meant he would have taken with his family aboard the _Black Pearl_. But Jack knew the moment Barbossa learned the boys name he would be in for another fate entirely.

Will stepped inside a lobster trap, and after a moment of trying to unsuccessfully shake it off was forced to walk with it. The floating barrel it was tied to on the surface of the water, started bobbing along and moving with them. At the edge of the dock nearby sat the harbormaster’s little indentured boy, who amongst the half-ruined and sunk ships and debris sat his fishing pole. He was swinging his little legs and watching as the barrel floated past him, a bit perplexed but unbothered by the sight.

The only other ones who saw it were two figures dressed in the casual navy blue uniforms, helping to load the _Interceptor_ with supplies. The one caught sight of it and saw where it was headed, nudged his companion next to him and nodded for them to look. Both smiled before one of them tucked a stray blonde hair back under their hat.

Climbing the stern of the _Dauntless_ was actually made easier by the rope provided by the lobster trap. Once they’d scaled over the side, Jack and Will crept quietly over the quarter deck, seeing that there were only a handful of marines aboard. They descended the stairs quickly, Jack with his pistol and Will with his sword.

“Everyone stay calm,” Jack bellowed, “We are taking over the ship.”

Will had jumped over the railing of the stairs to meet Jack at the bottom, raising his sword and trying to look menacing, “Aye, avast!”

The marines, being led by Gillette, let out an amused round of laughter upon seeing them. Particular at Will, who in all honest appearance was as threatening looking as a small pup. Jack looked back at him, a little appalled at his bad impression of a pirate, and Will raised his eyebrows realizing he’d probably tried too hard.

“This ship cannot be crewed by two men,” Gillette said smugly. “You’ll never make it out of the bay.”

Jack raised his pistol and pointed it at Gillette, “Son, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow,” He cocked it. “Savvy?”

Back at the Interceptor’s dock, Norrington was overseeing the log of marines as they loaded the ship. Suddenly Groves looked up at the bay, startled. “Commodore!”

Looking to where Groves was staring, Norrington took out his spyglass and saw Gillette and his men in a rowboat, pointing back at the _Dauntless_. He could hear the man shouting, “They’re taking the _Dauntless._ Sir! They’re taking the ship. Sparrow and Turner, they’re taking _Dauntless_!” Turning his spyglass toward the ship Norrington let out a sigh when he saw Turner and the pirate attempting to adjust the ropes on the ship, quite poorly he might add.

“Rash, Turner. Too rash,” He should have made sure a marine stayed with them, but Norrington had assumed when Elizabeth followed after the boys that she would calm them down, keep them company and out of trouble. But he found she was nowhere to be found when he’s attempted to update her on their plans to try and find Miss Flora.

“That is without a doubt the worst pirate I have ever seen.”

Back on the _Dauntless_ , Will ran up to the quarterdeck where Jack was standing, looking back at the _Interceptor_ as it lowered its front mainsail to catch the wind.

“Here they come,” Will said.

Jack turned to look, and smiled.

The _Interceptor_ caught up to them laughably quick. Grapples were thrown over the side as marines swung onto the ship, a gangplank quickly connecting the two ships as Norrington stormed aboard followed by Groves.

“Search every cabin, every hold, down to the bilges!” He ordered.

A single sailor stood by the stern of the _Interceptor_ , the only one left to guard it. The man heard footsteps approach him and before he could turn around he found a knife at his throat by none other than a fellow marine. Or at least he thought it was until the hat fell back to reveal long blondish hair. A woman!

She was followed by another person marauding as a marine, who was brandishing his own sword and daring him to cry out.

The girl spoke quickly, “Can you swim?”

“W-what?” He asked, quite scared

Her partner, more a boy than man, raised his sword threateningly. “Can. You. Swim!”

He swallowed, “Like a fish! I-I used to spend every s-summer in D-Dover, with m-my uncle—”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Jonathon sighed, pushing the poor man over the side and into the water.

At the bow of the ship Jack and Will quickly swung onto the deck and ran to the quarter deck where Jonathon and Elizabeth were. Will took his axe and quickly sliced through every rope connecting the two boats together while Jack took the wheel. The sound of the gangplank toppling into the water as the Interceptor began sailing away alerted the marines on the _Dauntless_.

They heard Norrington shout, “Sailors! Back to the Interceptor, now!”

One poor sod actually did try to swing back over, but the ship as just out of reach and he joined the fellow who had been pushed off by Jonathon.

Jack took off his hat a waved them off, “Thank you Commodore for helping us get ready to make way! We would have had a hard time of it by ourselves.”

Several soldiers starting shooting their muskets at the _Interceptor_ , causing the four people aboard to duck. Norrington took note of the other two in sailor uniforms and quickly began shouting inquiries to the men, “Who are those two sailors? We have deserters of the King’s Navy!” He whirled around to head up to the quarterdeck, “Set topsails and clear up this mess”

Groves was following behind him, “With the wind at quarter astern we won’t catch them!”

“I don’t need to catch them, just get them in range of the long nines,” Norrington ordered.

“Hands, come about! Run out the guns!” Groves relayed before speaking lower to the commodore, “We are to fire on our ship, sir?”

“I’d rather see her at the bottom of the ocean than in the hands of a pirate,” He took out his spyglass to see what the men were doing on the Interceptor. One of the deserters had come to the railing, holding onto the ratline to look back in the direction of the Dauntless. Looking at Norrington himself it seemed. But then his heart stopped when he took in the long blonde hair and the more delicate way they handled themselves at the railing, like someone who was not used to the motions of the ship. Elizabeth!

“Belay that order! Hold fire!” He called out. My God he’d almost ordered the ship to be sunk. A ship which was holding the woman he had asked to marry him just last night. “Female hostage aboard the ship! Hold fire!”

Groves peered and saw the figure as well, “Is that Miss Swann?”

Norrington sighed, “So it would seem. We need to send word back to Governor Swann that his daughter is with the Turner boy, and I suspect the McAdams boy as well, heading out on the _Interceptor_.”

A sailor behind him was trying to turn the wheel of the ship but couldn’t, “Commodore, he’s disabled the rudder chain, sir.”

Bowing his head in temporary defeat, Norrington knew he’d lost them; knew on a certain level he’d lost Elizabeth as well. Officially she would labeled as a hostage, forced to accompany Jack Sparrow in order to escape. He felt like a fool, he should have known that Elizabeth would not sit idly by while her friend was being held captive by pirates. That she had a fire within her which burned for justice and refused to be tempered even for someone like him or her father. It was that fire which he suspected is one of the reasons he loved her so. That’s why he would protect her as long as he could.

“That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen,” Groves admitted with reluctant reverence.

“So it would seem,” Norrington admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're off!
> 
> I hope you all like the way I'm portraying Norrington. I feel like he's often cast as an uncaring villain or a cold person in a lot of fanfics but he clearly loves Elizabeth in his own way and I wanted to portray him as a man of honor. I've tried to set it up so there was a planned intent to try and recover Flora. Governor Swann due to a sense of repayment not only because Flora and her family helped Elizabeth keep safe from the pirates but also because Swann did respect their father Ramsay and he died as a result of said pirates kidnapping his daughter. 
> 
> Norrington sees this as an extension of his duty. He sees Flora as the child he rescued all those years ago, who hugged him when she found out he'd already seen her brothers to safety. And in a sense of duty to Elizabeth, the woman he loves, whom he feels would not be here without Flora's help. Would it be as big of a search as it had been like if Elizabeth had been taken? Most likely no. But now that Norrington is labeling Elizabeth as a hostage of the boys and Sparrow he is justified at continuing his search for not only Elizabeth but Flora as well.
> 
> Also this will be the last we see of Joanie for a while. While it would have cute to include her I decided that this story would be a tad too dark or dangerous to realistically justify her being involved much further in the effort to rescue Flora, after all she is eight years old......but the sequels, oh my goodness you have no idea what I've planned for her.
> 
> Coming up next Will learns some disturbing revelations about his father and Flora gets creative in the captain's quarters.


	10. Keep Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora's first day aboard alarms her and she begins to suspect something is wrong with the crew of the Black Pearl. Jack reveals to Will the truth about his father

She hadn’t really slept, not since they brought her to the captain’s quarters. In all honesty she didn’t know what to expect, but she suspected they would have thrown her in the brig or at the very least some dark and damp, windowless room. It had been Pintel and Ragetti who had pulled her away from the railing eventually; she would have stood there all night making sure Jon and the girls rowed away to safety. She wouldn’t put it past one of these pirates to delightfully aim a cannon at the direction of the dingy.

She’d locked her jaw and tried to keep her angry tears from escaping as they started to drag her away. Barbossa saw her glare and looked amused, smirking before tipping his hat in a mock bow to her and exclaiming loudly, “Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl,_ Miss Turner!”

Barbossa must have told several pirates of his plan to keep her aboard, because two others rushed ahead of of them to open the doors of the captain’s quarters. That’s when she’d dug in her heels and started trying to jerk away, truly afraid of what was going to happen once they got her inside. But she was practically lifted and tossed forward and through the door, regaining her footing to stand and look back several rotten faces grinned and waved menacingly at her before slamming the door.

“Welcome aboard, poppet!” She heard through the door.

“Sweet dreams!” Another jeered.

More laughter followed before being snuffed out by Bo’ sun barking orders. She stood stock still until the motion of the boat became more prevalent and she knew they were sailing away. It was dark in the room, but she could tell it was large, and the back of the wall was lined with large windows. Several candles were lit on a table near the windows and she darted over to climb on the sill and look out.

A fog was about the ship, a celestial force that followed the vessel wherever it traveled, she would soon learn. But through the fog she could see it, the blinking lights of Port Royal and its terrified citizens. The place where her family had called home for the last eight years was slowly getting smaller and smaller as the ship carried her away.

She wanted to take one of the candles to explore her surroundings but they were melted into a pile of wax on the table and on a rack nearby. Digging them out would burn her fingers and most likely snuff them out, and the last thing she wanted to do was be stuck here in the dark.

Taking a seat on the sill by the window, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her arms upon them. Waiting with bated breath to hear any movement outside the door, she got very paranoid and decided to stand up again and walk along the walls, feeling for anything she could use as a weapon. She knew that she shouldn’t fight, but the thought of being helpless should one of these men attempt to try anything filled her with fear. She was in the middle of the ocean, nothing could be done to help her.

She’d felt along the wall and could make out a wardrobe that contained only two hanging clothing items but were stocked with boxes of paper of some kind but couldn’t read them without the light. Further along she almost tripped over a cannon which for some reason was being stored in here, much to her confusion. She froze when the wall suddenly ended and she grasped fabric. A curtain of sorts was acting as a barrier between the main part of the cabin and a small alcove.

Pulling the curtain back she could just make out the edge of a hidden bed, it’s sheets perfectly crisp and untouched. Reeling back, she closed the curtain quickly, now knowing this is where Barbossa slept filled her with dread. She wondered when he would come through the door.

But nobody did, not the entire night. For that she was grateful but she did not allow herself to sleep for fear someone would come in and find her unawares. She’d stand against a wall and doze, but her head drooping forward would remind her to keep watch. She hummed to herself and tried to play word games to pass the time. Deciding to sit back on the window sill she leaned her head against the glass and stared out into the waves. This entire time she kept a clutch on Joanie’s cloth doll, Beanie, and put it between her head and shoulder to act as a little pillow. The rocking motion of the ship lulled her and when she next jerked awake the sun was beginning to rise.

The candles had snuffed out and the remains of the smoke trickled into the air. As the sun rose and lit the cabin she could see it was quite intricately decorated, ornate wooden carving on certain corners of the drawers, chests, and support beams. Any fabric in the room was quite fine and Flora wondered where they’d been pillaged from. There were even some books stacked on top of a shelf and lined along the wall on the floor, some of the titles not even in English.

By the time the sun had risen halfway into the sky and still no sign of anybody, she’d quietly walked over to the door and tried to listen for any sign of activity. She could vaguely hear some distant voices but mostly it was the sound of the wind traveling over the ship. Deciding to test her luck she turned the handle of the doorknob and twisted it, but found it locked. She jerked it a few more times just to be sure and gave a thought to attempting to pick it with her mother’s thistle pin.

Suddenly the door jerked open and she gasped, stepping back. It was one of the dreadful pair that had thrown her in there, Pintel. He was carrying a mop and not far behind him was a bucket. He’d clearly been nearby swabbing the deck and seen the door handle jiggle and decided to investigate.

“Trying to escape, poppet?” He raised an eyebrow threateningly.

Worried he would tell Barbossa or Bo’ sun she shook her head quickly, “No, actually I was wondering if I might have a something to drink,” She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since before going to Elizabeth’s room last night, and after all the screaming they’d done she figured it wasn’t an outrageous request, “A sip of water, or whatever you and the crew drink for provisions.”

Pintel turned to his right and there was his little sidekick, Ragetti, who was on the opposite side of the door, peeking over. ‘What was he doing there?’ She wondered.

“You hear that?” He grinned at Ragetti, “The little miss wants whatever we drink.” He elbowed the bony man and they both wheezed like hyenas. Flora could see some of the crew on the deck stop what they were doing and look over.

She didn’t understand what was so funny and tried to close the door, “Sorry to bother you, then.”

But Pintel grabbed the door, his laughing stopping immediately. “Not saying no. Gotta ask the captain first.”

“Gotta ask the captain,” Ragetti echoed, his wooden eye nodding with his head.

“Uh—” Flora tries to interject but they’d already slammed the door in her face again. She cursed herself for being so stupid, for drawing attention to herself in such a way. They might have forgotten her for hours yet, and now those two were running off the Barbossa to complain that she was thirsty!

She tried to swallow her fear when not five minutes later footsteps bounded to the door and it was opened again. Pintel and Ragetti opened both doors to the deck, allowing the mid morning sun to cause her to blink. They both made a theatrical gesture to a large bucket sat atop a barrel by the mast. Sticking out of the bucket was a ladle, where she assumed any sailor who wanted to quench their thirst was meant to take a sip from.

And with fifteen other crew members out on the deck not even pretending to not leer at her, that walk from the door to water may as well have been a desert trek.

When she made no move to come out Pintel got impatient, “What’s the matter, you not thirsty no more? Water’s right there, all you gotta do is go take a sip.”

Shivering, but not from cold, she pulled her shawl tighter over herself. In the dark of the night with all the activity her nightgown, which regrettably was one of her thinner ones for the summer, didn’t seem so bad. In the daylight with all these men about she felt practically naked to have to walk out there. From Pintel and Ragetti’s grins they knew exactly why she was uncomfortable. Fingering the edges of her shawl, she paused, coming up with an idea.

“One moment, please!” She said quickly, ducking quickly behind the curtain which hid the bed. She saw both men curiously peer in the doorway, wondering what she was doing.

Quickly taking off her tartan shawl she shook it out, unfolding it completely to it’s full length. She went about tying it around her waist, gripping one end, before throwing another end over one of her shoulders. Tying the two ends together and then using the thistle pin to keep it in place, she had constructed a crude but effective little plaid tartan for herself.

Her mother would proud.

The look on Pintel and Ragetti’s faces were a bit funny, clearly not expecting her to come out more covered than before.

“What’s this, then?” Pintel asked, looking quite appalled.

She stopped not a foot away from them at the doorway, her eyes catching them with a steely look, “It’s called a tartan, and they’re all the rage with Scottish men. You should try one, they’re quite airy.” She said this nonchalantly.

And with that she marched right past them and onto the deck, toward the water pail. She tried to keep her eyes ahead and not catch any pirate’s gaze, preferring to drink quickly and then go right back to the cabin that had been deemed her hold. She took a hold of the ladle and judged the water clean enough, before bringing it up to her lips. She’d only taken one sip before she heard Barbossa’s voice travel across the deck.

“Ah, Miss Turner graces us with her presence at last,” She turned her head to see him at the helm up on the quarter deck. She considered reminding him that he’d had her locked inside his cabin, but decided on just glaring at him instead. One of his hands gripped the wheel, the other at his hip. “And looking like a mite proper highlander at that.”

She turned back to dip the ladle again, her throat suddenly parched after the first sip and not realizing how thirsty she’d truly been. Barbossa was not one to be ignored however, “Are your accommodations to your likin’, miss? Apologies if you’ve felt ignored, it’s been a long time since we’ve had delicate company aboard. Forget they need to be fed and watered on occasion.”

Some of the men snickered around her, but she kept her head down and tried to ignore them. She’d heard a few stories here and there about the Black Pearl and how they supposedly left no survivors. If that were true in a sense, then she supposed they weren’t used to having to remember to feed their captives. It made her shudder to think why on earth she was still aboard and had not been molested as of yet. Were they intending to sell her to some rich smuggler who preferred his merchandise untouched?

What irked her too is Barbossa’s use of the term ‘fed and watered’. That had been a running joke amongst her and Will for years concerning Joanie and now the captain had gone and ruined it. Their father had used that term a lot growing up, especially on the rare nights where their mother had to stay to cook for a soiree being held at the home she worked at. He would have to use his rudimentary cooking skills that night, which usually meant a simple stew of some kind, and when their mother returned home and asked how their evening was their father would make a grand gesture to the twins and proclaim, “Fed and watered as required.”

She didn’t know when she’d be allowed to drink again so she tried to get a few more sips. One of the pirates, a rather grizzled looking older man, suddenly peeked at her from behind the mast, startling her. Eying him warily, she wondered what he wanted. His eyes stared unblinking at her, and then traveled to the ladle in her hands.

“Here,” she tried to hand him the ladle, he looked a man dying of thirst, but he shook his head. Instead he continued looking at her with what appeared to be lust. She tried again, “It’s fine, I’m finished.”

“Keep drinking,” He whispered it like a prayer, revealing his missing front teeth.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, warily taking the ladle back to her person, before allowing her eyes to travel at the rest of the crew on the deck.

They were all staring at her. But there was no curiosity or amusement in their gazes like last night, instead there was an intensity behind their eyes that began to set her on edge. She was not ignorant of the male gaze nor under the impression that she was horrible to look at by the heads she turned back in Port Royal. But the way these pirates looked at her was not just sexual, it was akin to something more primal she couldn’t place and it scared her.

She dropped the ladle back into the bucket with a splash and began walking back to the cabin, her pace quickening the closer she got and she fought the urge to outright run back inside and shut the door to hide under the bed. Keeping her eyes down except when she she passed just under Barbossa, looking up at him and noticing the same vivid gaze coming from his person as well.

“Thank you,” She said to his direction.

Pintel and Ragetti had their mouths open like panting dogs as she passed. She grabbed both the doors and closed them on her way in, hoping they didn’t think it too forward and force them back open.

She slumped against the doors, hoping that they’d be locked, hoping nobody would barge in. She took a breath, not realizing she’d been holding it for so long. What on earth was that? What were these pirates playing at? She felt a rise of panic start to overcome her and she put a hand over her mouth the help her breathe through her nose and try to calm down. It had been so quiet on the deck as the men stared at her, she couldn’t even tell if they were breathing. At first she thought it was because they hadn’t seen a woman in so long but the way that man begged her to keep drinking, shamefully wanting to watch her do it, made her think something else was going on. Was Barbossa starving the men, and her being allowed to drink in front of them supposed to be some sort of psychological torture? But Barbossa had the same look as well.

She shuddered and pulled her knees up to hide her head, suddenly feeling dirty from their looks. Her thirst was sated but soon her stomach growled from the lack of food and a headache began to pound in her temple. Soon the exhaustion caught up to her and she fell asleep against the door, her dreams a jumbled mess of sea gulls crying and monkeys screeching.

Being awoken by the door opening caused her to scramble up and jump away, trying to act like she hadn’t just been in a vulnerable state. The lighting in the room was much darker and that’s when she saw the sun was beginning to set; to her dismay she’d slept through most of the day! She’d awoken from a nightmare just to be thrust into another.

Pintel and Ragetti informed her the captain would be joining her for dinner.

___________________________________

After they’d made sure all the lines were secured and done a search of the ship to make sure no soldiers had been unwillingly commandeered along with the _Interceptor_ , Jack went about setting their course at the helm. Jonathon and Elizabeth had been told to check all the supplies and make a crude inventory below deck, which is where they were now. Will had just finished tightening a line before moving astern to grab a whetstone and begin sharpening his sword.

“You know, for somebody whose made an industry of avoiding boats, you’re rather a quick study. You and your brother both,” Jack observed. The pirate admitted he had been worried about this part, bringing what he considered essentially three children out to sea with him, but could admit that they weren’t completely useless.

Will had briefed him on the last time they’d all been on a ship, eight years ago on the crossing and the fate of the merchant vessel. The blacksmith admitted he had a simple and sound policy of avoiding ships ever since. For Jack, the thought of never being on the open ocean again appalled him, and he’d informed the boy as much and started putting him to work. Will had done so without complaint and the captain thought he could make a proper pirate of him yet, especially if he were as clever as his sire was.

“When we were traveling on the _Princess_ ,” Will was referring to the name of the doomed merchant vessel, “Jonathon and I were expected to perform as cabin boys as part of our family’s cheapened passage. We all had jobs of some kind, even Flora and our mother helped in the little galley. Some of it’s coming back I suppose. But before that when we were children living in England, Flora and I were practically raised by our mother by herself. Our father died at sea when were eleven.”

Jack could tell the boy was playing guile with him, trying to turn the conversation to one Jack knew would have to happen but didn’t mean he particularly wanted to. Tying a line to the wheel to keep the course steady Jack went about checking and tightening lines near the railing.

“Is that so?” Jack replied in a bored manner.

“Our father, William Turner?” When Jack said nothing Will lost his patience and decided he was done dancing around it. He needed answers. “At the jail it was only after you learned my name that you agreed to help. Since that’s all I wanted I didn’t press the matter, but I’m not a simpleton Jack. You knew our father,” Will accused.

Up until now Jack had not faced him, Will had had to follow him around the deck as Jack checked his lines before they returned back to the quarter deck. Sighing, Jack pondered whether he should lie. It would be easy, and frankly Jack thought the boy might be better off than knowing the truth. But the nitty-gritty of it was Jack knew it would be worse learning later, and he needed this boy to have a clear head with what lay ahead of them.

Jonathon and Elizabeth had emerged from below deck, having shed their blue navy jackets. They observed Jack and Will at the helm and seemed to sense the somber turn the conversation had taken, making their way up slowly.

He turned around to face Will and admitted, “I knew him. Probably one of the few who knew him as William Turner. Everyone else just called him Bootstrap, or Bootstrap Bill.”

“Bootstrap?” Will asked.

Jack walked back to wheel and released the line that secured it, taking it into his own hands. “Good man,” He lamented, “Good pirate. I swear, you look just like him”

Jack saw Jonathon sitting at the top step leaning against the rail, observing. His eyes widened when he heard Jack call Will’s father a pirate, and he looked at Will for a reaction. Behind him Elizabeth grasped the railing and stared.

“It’s not true!” Will exclaimed.

“Is so, you do look just like him.” He turned back to Will and smirked, “I never met anyone as clever in mind and hands as him. When you were puzzling out that cell door it was like seeing his twin.” He squinted at the lad for a moment. “Except for the eyes though. Those he passed on to your sister. And the rest of her came from pretty Helen, thank goodness.”

At the sound of Jack knowing his mother’s name Will froze. Jonathon even turned sharply at this revelation, asking, “How did you know Miss Helen?”

“You’re lying!” Will accused, “My father was a merchant sailor. A good, respectable man who obeyed the law. Our mother would never have—”

“He was a bloody pirate, a scallywag,” Jack declared, frustrated with Will’s denial. “And what makes you think your mother didn’t know?”

Jack turned back around to face the the horizon. Will, angry at the insinuations this pirate made about his deceased parents, reached for the sword at his waist and drew it. Elizabeth gasped and Jonathon stood up, ready for what he didn’t know. Jack just sighed again, not even bothering to turn around.

“Put it away, son. It’s not worth you getting beat again.”

But Will kept it level with Jack, “You didn’t beat me. You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fight, I’d kill you.”

Jack laughed and finally turned back to look at Will, “Well that’s not much incentive for me to fight fair, is it? Your pretty sister sure didn’t.”

Jack suddenly turned the wheel hard to starboard, the sail boom whipping around from the action and slammed into Will’s chest and sweeping him off the ship and dangling him over the open water. His sword dropped and clattered to the ground.

“Will!” Elizabeth screamed, her and Jonathon now scrambling up from the stairs. But they were stopped when Jack took out his pistol and aimed it at them.

“Stay,” He calmly commanded, not even looking at their direction.

Jonathon glared at the gun pointed at him. Jack kept the pistol on them while he picked up Will’s sword with his other and walked closer to hanging man over the ocean, pointing the sword at him.

“As long as you’re just hanging there, pay attention. All of you!” He nodded briefly to Jonathon and Elizabeth. “The only rules out here that really matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man; that your mother knew about it and chose to love him anyway, to marry and have a family with him. Or you can’t. But pirate is in you and your sister’s blood boy, so you’ll have to square with that someday.” Elizabeth was actually impressed with Jack at that moment, he seemed sincere in trying to humanize the situation and help Will to accept it.

And then Jack had to go ruin it by saying, “Now me, for example, I could let you drown.” All of them looked alarmed, questioning their intelligence in trusting Jack. “But that means I’d have to throw these two—” he motioned to Jonathon and Elizabeth, “—over as well. And I can’t bring this ship into Tortuga all by my onsies. Savvy?”

Jack swung the wheel back to port and the boom rolled back over the deck, bringing Will back from dangling over the ocean. He let go of it and fell onto the deck with a grunt, Jack coming to stand over him. He pointed the sword at the boy, “So can you sail under the command of a pirate?” Jack then flipped the sword so he was holding the hilt, offering Will the handle. He also holstered his pistol. “Or can you not?”

Glaring at Jack for a moment, Will considered what to do. He slowly reached out to take the sword to make sure it wasn’t a trick, but Jack readily handed it over. A temporary truce seemed to have been reached between Jack and the Will, and knowing the if the Turner boy would follow him then so would the other two.

“Tortuga?” Will asked.

“Tortuga?” Elizabeth whispered to Jonathon, who shook his head and shrugged.

“Tortuga.” Jack nodded, his gold tooth catching the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Flora has NO IDEA what she is about to learn about Barbossa and his crew.
> 
> I decided to write these two scenes together because both of them show the Turner twins getting a hint to their father's past. Will is told outright by Jack that his father was a pirate and Flora hearing the term 'fed and watered' from Barbossa, a term her father frequently used, are going to start connecting the pieces together. 
> 
> More and more about Bootstrap and Helen are going to be revealed throughout this story, don't worry


	11. Tortuga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tortuga is an eye-opening experience for the lot. Meanwhile Jack reveals to Gibbs who Will is and his importance to Barbossa

Will thought Tortuga was atrocious. Elizabeth wouldn’t cry if they said they were never coming back. Jonathon kept turning his head around and gaping like a child at a circus. And Jack was the ringleader of their entire party, in fact he had somehow acquired a silver cane from a passerby, thus completing the mental image Will had just concocted.

His first thought was Elizabeth should have stayed on the boat, Will should have insisted. But from the bay the port of Tortuga hadn’t looked so terrible, just a bunch of houses and buildings built up and into the receding jungle very much like Port Royal.

They had arrived by sundown that night, the twinkling lights of the town beckoning them in. Jack had been downright giddy as they came into the crescent shaped bay, and Will soon found out why the pirate would be so happy to return here. It was a paradise for lowlifes, whores, thieves, and any delinquents of every caliber. They couldn’t even leave the ship at one of the docks and instead anchored it further out into the bay and took a dingy.

When Jonathon asked if it was because he wanted to avoid a docking fee, Jack laughed and said, “A ship of the fleet this nice would be stolen not after three steps of us taking off walking onto said dock. No, best to leave it out there so the drunks don’t see it and drown should they have an inclination to do anything but that.”

It was the smell that hit them first, a combination of sweat, vomit, urine and other human waste Will would hate to think littered these streets. All except Jack jumped at a sudden onslaught of gunshots as he led the confused and slightly frightened party into the lawless town. Will blushed and averted his eyes as they passed groups of women with painted faces and low cut dresses, beckoning at them with watery eyes and stained teeth.

“More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga. Savvy?” Jack declared as they walked along a boisterous ally near the center of the little town.

Jonathon took a step ahead of them and Jack used his cane to catch the lad at the shoulder and pull him back. A cart being pulled by a donkey would have hit him had he not, and they all stared as the cart passed them while dragging some poor fellow tied behind it.

“What do you think?” Jack asked earnestly.

Elizabeth, who was wearing the dark men’s coat over her clothes once again, looked down at a man guzzling rum from two mugs while a supple woman sat atop the barrel and trickled more into his open mouth. She looked back at Will beseechingly.

“It’ll linger,” Will answered.

But Jack would not have it, “I’ll tell you, mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted.” Jack looked up to notice a woman marching toward them with curly red hair piled on top of her head and a matching red dress.

“Scarlet!” Jack cried happily and walked toward her. Instead of kind words however he was immediately met with a SLAP from this Scarlet before she marched back to the companions she’d been conversing with before spotting them.

Jack’s head had whipped around and took in the shocked faces of his three traveling companions, “Not sure I deserved that.”

And then a very thin blonde woman walked up to them, Jack turning around just in time to greet her. “Giselle!”

This Giselle looked unamused, nodding to Scarlet retreating figure, “Who was she?” Then Giselle turned her eyes to Elizabeth, “And who is SHE?”

“What?” Jack asked.

“What?” Elizabeth gaped.

‘SLAP’ and Jack’s head whipped around again. Giselle looked sharply at Elizabeth and said, “If he tells you he loves you, he don’t mean it.” And then stormed off as well.

“I may have deserved that,” Jack admitted, rubbing his twice-slapped cheek. He looked ahead of the street and with vigor motioned for them all to follow him. They walked past several men firing pistols at some poor souls balancing bottles on their heads, the glass shattering everywhere when the bullets hit their target. Elizabeth flinched at the sight, but Will grabbed her hand pulled her close to where they were following Jack.

“We should escape this wretched pit as quickly as possible,” Jack said, walking them toward what looked like a tavern. The sign had a picture of a woman dressed in white chains manacled to her wrists, and above her smiling face was written The Faithful Bride.

“And with a crew!” Will reminded him, holding onto Elizabeth and resisting the urge to grab onto Jonathon as well. His step-brother kept taking a few steps away to gape at men with peg legs or watch two women fighting and pulling at the others hair.

“Ah yes, well it just so happens that you know the man who knows the man who knows the finest sailors in all Tortuga.” Jack said, leading them into the tavern. Jack also decided he’d had enough of his recently commandeered walking stick and handed it to Will, who also didn’t know what to do with it so he reached past Elizabeth and handed it to Jonathon, who was bringing up the rear.

Jonathon palmed the walking stick and saw a man get shoved against the wall just to his left. Jonathon shrugged and handed him the stick, and the drunkard looked confused for a moment but then delighted with his little gift. Just as he thought himself a good person for making this stranger happy, he was taken aback when the drunkard used it to hit a man in front of him who had been kissing a woman against the support beam.

Thinking he was about to attack the woman, Jonathon was ready to take the stick back before the drunkard dropped it to the ground and stepped over the man he’d just hit. He embraced the woman and before he knew it Jonathon witnessed them begin a heavy kissing session. He was so shocked at the turn of events he didn’t realize he was staring until Will pulled him into the bar by his sleeve.

“Stay with us, please!” Will hissed. Honestly he felt like they were young boys again and he had to be in charge of the lot of them when they went out to run errands or go play by the docks.

“I don’t look like one those women, do I?” Elizabeth asked Will, who had yet to let go of her hand, “One of those painted women?” She thought of Giselle’s words and looked at her own boyish clothing. Did she give off an impression that she was here in Tortuga as a fallen woman?

Will looked back at her with wide eyes, “Of course not.” He turned back around the guide them through the tavern before saying softly, “You’re beautiful.”

But while Will was wary about this new place Jonathon found the atmosphere more intriguing then frightening. He’d been brought up with certain rules and expectations his entire life with a rigid example of what was proper. And here was a whole town that just decided to throw the rules and do whatever pleased them.

Jack was talking to the man behind the bar who pointed out toward the back before handing Jack two buckets of water. The pirate motioned for the three to follow him.

“What are we doing?” Will asked.

“Finding my quartermaster. Here take this,” Jack handed Will on of the buckets and they walked out the back of the tavern and towards a pigsty around the back.

Inside the little enclosure they found a man sleeping in the sty and using two pigs as pillow. Elizabeth peered at the man, thinking he looked somewhat familiar. Before they knew it Jack threw the bucket of water onto the man, startling him and the pigs awake. The man drew a small dagger from out of nowhere and looked about wildly, “Curse you for breathing you slack-jawed idiots!”

When the man’s eyes cleared and took them in, he visibly relaxed, “Mother’s love, Jack!” he spat some of the water out that had run into his mouth though it didn’t hide his slurring from drink, “You should know better than to wake a man when he’s sleeping. It’s bad luck.”

And that’s when it clicked for Elizabeth, “Mr. Gibbs!”

“Mr. Gibbs?” Will and Jonathon both gaped at the man who’d sailed on the _Dauntless_ all those years ago. Jonathon seemed especially mortified at where the former marine had ended up, having quite liked the man when he was a child.

“I know you, lass?” Gibb’s asked, squinting at her.

“Re-introductions will have to wait, children,” Jack said, a bit confused before turning back to Gibbs. “And as for bad luck, fortunately I know how to counter it. Then man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking.”

The three were actually impressed when Gibbs was able to follow that logic when they themselves were almost lost in it. It seemed like everything was a riddle to Jack Sparrow in one way or another. Gibbs nodded and smiled, probably when he realized Jack was going to buy him a drink, “Aye, that’ll about do it.”

Jack helped him up and stood back as Will took his pail of water and tossed it at Gibbs, drenching him again, “Blast, damn it, I’m already awake!”

Will shrugged, “That was for the smell.”

Gibbs looked like he was about to argue, but then shrugged, realizing the lad was right. He laughed and walked back with them into the Faithful Bride. Once inside he found a table in a quieter part of the bar, which wasn’t saying much since there were at least four different brawls going on that they could count. Jack went to the barman to get two tankards, navigating through the rough crowd like it was a dance he effortlessly knew. He passed Jonathon, Elizabeth and Will standing against the wall, pausing in front of them, “Keep a sharp eye.”

Will nodded but once Jack sat down with at the table Jonathon whispered to the two of them, “What are we keeping an eye for?”

Shrugging, Will said, “Suspicious characters, I suppose?”

A large woman walked past them holding a tiny man over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Elizabeth pointed at the pair as they passed and said dryly, “There’s some.”

Meanwhile, Jack sat down across from Gibbs, he held out the tankard for Gibbs to take, teasing him for a moment by holding it out and pulling it back. Finally, he let the poor sod have it.

“Just the one,” Jack reminded him, handing the tankard of rum to Gibbs.

“Best make it last then,” Gibbs replied, taking a small sip. “So why are you here with the Swann girl? And who be the boys? They also look a touch familiar.”

Gibbs had remembered where he’d seen Elizabeth now, those weeks aboard the _Dauntless_ all those years ago coming back. It wasn’t long after that he’d been dismissed from the navy and good riddance to that, he wasn’t cut out for the structure of it all. Or the demand for sobriety. While Gibbs explained his interactions with the child Elizabeth to Jack, grown-up Elizabeth was trying to listen in.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Elizabeth asked.

“Hopefully finding a crew,” Will said. But any time he tried to sneak a glance Jack caught his eye like he knew what he was doing. The pirate did not seem to want them to know what they were discussing.

Elizabeth shoved herself off the wall. She’d been between the two boys so they could perform as a kind of barrier between her and the rest of the bar patrons, but she had an idea. “Will, stay here. Jon, come with me outside.”

“Where are you going?” Will asked.

“You keep a sharp eye, I’m going to keep sharp ears,” She smiled and grabbed Jonathon to follow her.

Will watched as they weaved through the crowd carefully, Elizabeth nonchalantly picking up a tankard from the edge of a table as she passed. Walking through the front door Jonathon saw the couple from before still feverishly kissing and getting ready to do quite a bit more against the wall, but Elizabeth led him to the other side of the building. There was a window carved out of the stone wall and they saw the edge of Jack’s tri-corn hat and quickly ducked. Elizabeth chucked the bit of liquid out the tankard and held it up to the wall, pressing her ear to the other end in an attempt to listen. Jonathon kept an eye out to make sure nobody would bother them.

“So tell me,” She heard Gibbs’s voice muffle through the wall, “What’s the nature of this venture of yours?”

“I’m going after the _Black Pearl_ ,” Jack said. It was met with Gibbs choking on his drink, beating on his chest in an attempt to clear his windpipe. “I know where it’s going to be, and I’m going to take it.”

Gibbs’s eyes were wide, looking at Jack with his mouth agape. “Jack, it’s a fool’s errand. You know better than me the tales of the _Black Pearl_.”

“That’s why I know what Barbossa is up to. All I need is a crew.”

“What I hear tell of Captain Barbossa, he’s not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one,” Gibbs said.

‘Yet he struck a bargain with them,’ Elizabeth thought sadly to that night on the deck with Barbossa. How they thought they’d won, gotten away and saved their town and were ready to go home. But Barbossa had played them for fools and Flora was the one who paid dearly for it. ‘And it’s all my fault,’ Elizabeth thought. If only she hadn’t taken the medallion out of its hiding place; that evil little talisman had somehow beckoned the pirates to their front door.

“Well then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not a fool then,” Jack countered.

“Prove me wrong!” Gibbs demanded, “What makes you think Barbossa will give up his ship to you?”

Jack leaned in, “Well let’s just say it’s a matter of leverage, eh?”

From his lookout point Will was able to catch that last part, his ears letting him know that there was something Jack wasn’t telling him. Before he could hear more an obscenely drunk woman came stumbling over to him, smiling at him with rotten teeth. She leaned against him and Will stumbled as he tried to correct their position while stiffly letting her know he wasn’t interested in any conversations or other transactions she had in mind.

Elizabeth tried to hear from her position outside, but a raucous of laughter kept drowning the men out, making it difficult. Finally, she caught snippets from Gibbs.

“The kid?” He asked.

Jack nodded, “That is the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner,” Gibbs’s eyes widened, “Now Bootstrap’s daughter, the boy’s twin, who has impeccable aim with a rum bottle I should add, has currently found herself as an unwilling guest of Barbossa’s. I know where he’s going and I know what he plans to do, but he doesn’t know he only has one half of the puzzle.”

Gibbs smiled, revealing more missing teeth than not, and looked over to Will’s direction, “Are they now?” Will had successfully passed the woman off to very drunk man who looked more than happy to take her.

At that same moment outside the window, two men decided to start swinging at each other just feet away from Jonathon and Elizabeth. They quickly scrambled away to avoid them, Elizabeth dropping her tankard as Jon and her bolted back to the tavern entrance. They didn’t hear the rest of the conversation but Elizabeth had heard enough; Jack was going to use Will as leverage to get a ship.

“Leverage, says you. I think I feel a change in the wind, says I,” Gibbs smiled again, taking a sip from his tankard. “I’ll find us a crew. There’s bound to be some sailors on this rock as crazy as you.”

“One can only hope,” Jack agreed. Then he held up his drink, “Take what you can!”

“Give nothing back!” Gibbs responded to their favorite mantra, clinking his drink against Jack’s. They both took a big gulp and then slammed the tankards down, sealing the deal.

“I knew it, I bloody knew it,” Gibbs said pointing at Jack. “The moment we pulled those half drowned half-pints out the water I knew pirates were involved. A merchant vessel like that don’t blow up without some help. And trying to run down a whole family like that? It ain’t right.” Gibbs shook his head again solemnly, remembering more and more about that day. That unnatural fog enclosing in on them, the flames engulfing the mast of the sinking ship, a little girl staring at him with sad eyes as he offered his hand to her.

Slinking back to Will, Elizabeth and Jonathon were in the exact same position as Jack left them not several minutes before. Looking at them questioningly, Will asked, “What did you hear?”

Elizabeth mouth tightened into a grimace, like the words she was about to say even tasted terrible to speak, “You were right. Jack’s up to something and he’s going to use you to get what he wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are getting hints on how the curse will be effected by the fact that Will and Flora are twins. Also I plan on having a few flashbacks and conversations involving Gibbs basically realizing he is back on a boat with Elizabeth, Will and Jonathon who sort of haven't changed that much since they were children, but that's why he low-key loves them.
> 
> Also Jonathon is the baby brother in this situation who needs to be watched constantly. I tried so hard not to write out he was a leash-kid because I don't believe those existed in the 1730s. 
> 
> And gear up because next chapter is Flora's dinner with Barbossa....


	12. The Curse Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora dines with the Barbossa

“You’ll be dining with the captain, and he requests you wear this,” Pintel motioned to garment in his arms.

Both of them had come in looking quite smug and Flora couldn’t help but fold her arms and glare at them as they’d walked in. She’d scrambled up from the little sleep she’d accidently had and was trying not to appear like she’d been caught unawares. But at this point she was also free to admit to herself she was quite sick of this pair, but had a feeling they quite enjoyed that she found them so repulsive.

“Well you may tell the captain that I am disinclined to acquiesce to his request,” She retorted, throwing the captain’s very words to Elizabeth the night before back at them.

They chuckled and looked at each other, “He said you’d say that. He also said that if that’d be the case then you’ll be dining with the crew, and you’ll be naked.”

Ragetti broke into an array of giggles and the horrified look on Flora’s face egged him on even further. For a moment she couldn’t decide what was worse picturing: being alone in this cabin wearing that wine colored dress or sitting outside with forty men wearing nothing at all. Quickly erasing that image and picking her battles wisely, she reached out and snatched the dress from Pintel.

The man had the gal to look disappointed in her choice, “Fine!”

She glared at him and muttered, “Well, I’m not happy about this either!”

Huffing, the pair walked out to leave. On the way Ragetti called back to her, “You best get changed right quick! Captain expects you ready when he arrives.”

She heard the doors close and exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Knowing it was best to get it over with she unfolded the garment and held it up, revealing a wine-colored gown of high refinery even Elizabeth and her father hadn’t achieved. It’s material so fine and smooth, nothing like she had ever owned. She thanked the Lord for all the days she’d helped Elizabeth get dressed most mornings, being able to figure out the laces quite easily. She’d unwrapped herself from her makeshift tartan dress, folding it and placing it by the window. She’d taken off her nightgown and attempted to put the dress on, but found the bodice was too low-cut for her liking. The absence of any chemise or corset forced her to take it off and don the nightgown again before putting the dress on over it. It helped with her sense of modesty in that respect.

There was no mirror in the cabin, she didn’t expect there to be on pirate ship. The dress billowed around her and it became clearer that it was meant for someone slightly taller. As she came to that conclusion another one suddenly snuck in on her, and her chest suddenly tightened as the thought of another woman having clearly worn this dress before. What fate had befallen the woman that her dress was left upon this ship? Had it been looted in a chest of valuables during a raid. Had another woman been on this ship before her?

Her throat tightened and she had to suddenly fight the urge to cry. Images of scenarios where a faceless woman on this very ship would be parted from this dress suddenly brought to light what could very well happen to her once the captain arrived to dine with her. Her paranoia started getting the best of her and she half expected Barbossa to appear from the shadows of the cabin. Hearing the hint of a man’s whisper caused her to turn around, suddenly fearful he had somehow made his way inside without her knowing.

She looked about the cabin and didn’t spot anything, making her way further toward the doors. Getting closer to the wall by the door she heard men’s voices from outside, but they were close they must have been pressed against the wood itself.

“Gimme a go!” She heard a man say, and suddenly Flora’s eyes came upon a small hole in the wall.

She heard shuffling as she bent down to inspect the hole, and gasped upon seeing a familiar yellowed eye looking back at her. It quickly moved upon sensing it being discovered and Flora dove out of the way. Pressing herself against the wall next to peephole, she tried to contain the undignified wail that threatened to escape her at the embarrassment she felt. She had undressed down to nothing the first time she’d tried to get the dress on, and these men had watched her do it! She pressed her hand to her mouth in horror as she heard them giggling behind the wall.

“I can’t see nothin’!” Ragetti’s voice complained.

Her indignity gave way to anger, and Flora lowered herself to look through the peephole once more. She was ready to scare Ragetti, but upon seeing the moron was trying to spy on her with his wooden eye, she came up with a better idea.

“You’re an idiot,” She heard Pintel mutter, and Flora couldn’t agree more. She pulled out her mother’s pin and made sure the sharp needle was pointed at the ready. Acting quickly, she stuck it through the hole, successfully sticking it into the wooden eye and knocking it loose. Ragetti’s yelp of surprise brought a smirk to her face. When Flora pulled the pin back through the hole she was startled to see that the eye came back with it.

She heard them scramble away and when it was followed by silence she palmed her strange little prize and wondered what to do with it. She and the wooden eye engaged in a short staring contest before she heard someone approaching the door. Quickly scrambling back to the far side of the room by the windows she waited with bated breath as the doors opened and one by one a pirate carrying a plate of food came inside. The aroma of cooked meat and baked bread filled the room and for a moment Flora could think she was in heaven. She hadn’t had a bite to eat in over 24 hours.

She crossed her arms over stomach when it threatened to grumble at the prospect of food. Some of the pirates glanced at her as they placed the trays down, but otherwise didn’t engage. Milky-eyed Kotracho was going around setting candles on the table and another very tall pirate with tattoos on his face, Weatherby, was setting down napkins and utensils. She thought the entire scene a little too domestic for a pirate ship, and found it funny how the lot fussed over the tiny details.

She went to attach her pin back to her folded tartan, not really wanting to put it on this dress she was forced to wear, and realized she was still clutching Ragetti’s wooden eye. Figuring the man had been punished enough she approached Weatherby, craning her neck to look up at him, and cleared her throat to grab his attention.

He regarded her with a grunt, probably wondering what on earth she could want, as did Kotracho and another pirate, Mallot, whom was in charge with bringing in the wine bottles. They watched as she presented Weatherby the wooden eye, knowing it could only belong to Ragetti, and he took it questioningly. He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“Would you kindly return that to Master Ragetti?” She asked and took a step back toward the window sill before primly adding, “And please inform him that should I catch him doing what he was doing earlier that I’ll gladly nail it in place next time.”

The little smile she finished that threat with would have unsettled anyone of gentler company, and for a moment she thought it did these pirates by the silence that followed. But suddenly Weatherby smiled his rotten teeth at her and let out a barking laugh, followed quickly by the other two. And for once they weren’t laughing at her expense but at Ragetti’s, pointing at the fake eye in Weatherby’s hand and howling.

But the laughter quickly ended by Barbossa making his appearance, and the men immediately stood attention and finished their tasks. Kotracho blew out his match just as Barbossa waved them off, the pirates making their way out. Just before the doors closed she heard one of them, Mallot she thought, shout in the distance, “Oi, Ragetti! Lose somethin’, did ya!” It was followed by jeers from the others. Flora noted she didn’t hear the lock click.

Suddenly finding herself alone in the cabin with Barbossa, Flora felt her courage wilt as his eyes traveled over her in the dress he’d picked out, but chose to keep a hard glare on him. She flinched as his monkey screeched and ran across the table to a perch hanging nearby.

“Maid or not, it suits you,” His compliment did nothing but make Flora feel naked, resisting the urge cover her chest with her arms.

“I bet you said that to it’s previous owner,” She glared at him, “And what became of her, I wonder?”

He clucked his tongue, “Now, none of that.”

Walking over to the table he pulled a chair out and beckoned to her to sit, ever the gentleman he played at being. She slowly walked over and sat down, trying to avoid touching any part of him as he pushed the chair in for her. He leaned over the chair at her right shoulder, his face close enough that she felt strands of some of his hair brush against her cheek.

“Dig in,” He said, before taking the seat to her right.

He reached over and grabbed the plate of sliced bread and handed it to her, beckoning her to take a few pieces for her plate. When she tentatively took some but made no moves to reach for anything else, he relieved her of her plate and began piling on food. He took some of the leg of roasted pig, vegetables, crawfish and potatoes and handed it back to her.

When he showed no inclination to join her in eating yet, she picked up her knife and fork and began slicing at the ham. Barbossa had piled so much food onto her plate that she knew if she even attempted to eat all of it she would be sick, after having not eaten in so long. She and her siblings had learned that the hard way after fasting most Christmas Days as children where they would only eat at dinner; poor Jonathon brought up his pudding one year after indulging too much.

The small slice she took and ate slowly seemed to amuse him somewhat and he scoffed, seeing the pretense in her acting proper for company.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, nor call to impress anyone,” He waited for his words to sink in, “You must be hungry.”

She was, and the temptation to dig in with her hands almost won out, but knowing that’s what he wanted her to do filled her with spite. She compromised by swallowing the tender meat and just cutting a larger slice.

“You forget Captain; I grew up in the governor’s house. Manners were expected of everyone, even the staff,” She said.

He chucked, “Your step-sister and you both seem a higher caliber than most maids we come across. And you being the daughter of a seaman, well let’s just say you weren’t what I expected.”

She regarded him skeptically, “I’d loathe to know many maids you and your crew have come across. And as for manners and education I was lucky. The governor’s daughter was around my age and took a liking to me, we became companions of sorts as children. Her tutors found their efforts worked better if I participated, meaning I got a first class education in etiquette, poise and the art of conversation.” She’d also become quite adept at keeping lies as of late.

Putting a thin slice of ham on her bread she recalled afternoons where Elizabeth’s governess, an older woman named Miss Knorr, would have the girls practice pouring tea for one another with strict instruction on posture. Elizabeth winking at her and trying not laugh as she was made to balance a book on her head while Flora beckoned her over. Flora could even carry a basic conversation in French with how often Elizabeth would practice with her, though she loathed to think how terrible her pronunciation had gotten over the last few years.

Yes, Flora had indeed been lucky in her education.

Barbossa barked out a small laugh, “Conversation skills ya certainly have. I noticed ya already ordering Master Weatherby about as I was coming in.”

“I said please,” She shrugged, before coughing for a moment when a piece of bread went down her throat wrong.

Not taking his eyes off her, Barbossa reached for a bottle of wine and poured out a glass. “Try the wine.”

She cleared her throat and accepted it, taking a gulp and trying to keep the grimace off her face as she tried the unfamiliar drink. Her family hadn’t been much for drinking wine, but on the occasion Ramsay could find a bottle of whiskey he would sometimes serve a small amount to his three oldest. Hers was usually diluted with two drops of water to help with the strong taste.

A green apple was suddenly shoved toward, “And the apples, one of those next.” His voice was so full of earnest it made Flora stop and look at him, noticing he had the same look in his eyes as that morning when he and the crew watched her drink. A hidden desire akin to lust.

Even the monkey was quiet on his perch, silently watching her eat. Barbossa had also yet to eat or drink anything, not even a plate had been set out for him she’d just noticed. She dropped the piece of bread she had half eaten back onto her plate, a sudden horrible thought filled her with panic.

“It’s poisoned!” She cried, looking at the goblet of wine and wondering if she could taste whatever they’d tainted it with.

But Barbossa just chuckled at her condescendingly, “There’d be no sense in killing ya, Miss Turner.”

“Then release me! You have your trinket and I’m of absolutely no use to you!” She cried out in frustration, shaking her head for a moment to clear her thoughts, “Is it because I embarrassed you and your men when I threatened to drop it? Because you were about to throw my little sister overboard so I think after all this you’ve proven your point!”

She was about to beg him to drop her off at any port, any island or spot of land nearby. Just end this cruel game and leave her be so she could go home back to her family.

But instead Barbossa’s face became quite serious and he reached into his coat pocket and produced said medallion, the cause of all this trouble. His voice lowered and asked, “Ya don’t know what this is, do ya?”

“I told you I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was delivered with my father’s death notification. A gold coin he must have found amusing enough to keep.” She tried to shrug it off, not liking the seriousness the conversation was turning to.

“This is Aztec gold,” Barbossa revealed. “One of 882 identical pieces they delivered in a stone chest to Cortés himself. Blood money paid to stem the slaughter he wreaked upon them with his armies. But the greed of Cortés was insatiable, so the heathen gods placed upon the gold…..a terrible curse,” One could say a lot things about Barbossa but one of those things would not be him being a terrible story teller. His voice could captivate and entrap those around him, and his telling of this cursed gold seemed to turn the room itself cold and bring goose bumps to Flora’s skin. And the whole time his eyes never left hers, they bore into her very soul and revealed the black pit his was.

“Any mortal who removes even a single piece from that stone chest……shall be punished, for eternity.”

The room was silent as a grave as Flora took in his story, the entire time he’d held up the medallion to rest on his knuckles, it perfectly positioned between a gold and black ring and his sharp, dirty nails. The totality by which he spoke rang true with each word but still she scoffed at it.

“Sounds like an old ghost story my ma would have told us as bairns to keep us in bed,” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Aye,” Barbossa smiled coolly, standing up from his chair to walk around the table. With each rocking motion of the ship the candelabras and plates of food would shift slightly, and Flora found herself unconsciously edging an item away when it got to close. The apple he tried to offer her earlier rolled off the table.

“That’s exactly what we thought when we were first told the tale. Buried on an Island of Dead that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is.” He came to a stop by Flora’s chair, leaning down uncomfortably close to her left while she kept her eyes on him warily. “But find it, we did. And there be the chest. And inside be the gold. And we took ‘em all.”

He made a quick grasping motion with his fist, startling her. “We spent ‘em and traded ‘em. Frittered them away on drink, food and pleasurable company,” He was moving again, this time he walked behind her chair and stopped on her right, his face shifting in this part of the tale. His body language and eyes were imploring to her, to mark his words and look past all that had transpired between them thus far. His next words were whispered in solemnity, “But the more we gave them away, the more we began to realize. The drink would not satisfy. Food turned to ash in our mouths. And all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. We are cursed men Miss Turner.” He leaned back, motioning to himself with closed fists, “Compelled by greed we were. But now, we are _consumed_ by it.”

The shrills of the monkey on the perch had been growing, and when the little creature jumped while ending on a particular loud blare it caused both humans in the room turned to look at him. Barbossa walked over to stroke his pet, distracted while Flora took the knife she used to cut her meat and quickly hid it in the fold of her dress. This conversation was taking a turn that made her nervous.

“Your father, Bill Turner,” Flora almost dropped the knife with how sharply she looked up at Barbossa, “He came to learn this along with the rest of us.”

Her breath caught in her throat, “How did you know my father?”

His back to her still, she heard him chuckle before continuing to sooth the monkey, “What makes ya’ think I did?” He coolly asked.

“You know his name.”

“Ye musta mentioned it last night on the deck with your family.”

But Flora wasn’t having it, “No, I didn’t. Jonathon told you my step-father’s name and it was you who asked my full name,” She pause, the gears in her head turning as she figured it out. “And it was only then you decided to bargain with me. Even the crew seemed to know my name when you announced it on deck.” She loathed what she had to ask, “Did he…. Did he sail with you?”

He chuckled again, turning around to give her a sly look, “Now, we be getting ahead of ourselves. One tale at a time, Miss.” Barbossa chided, handing the medallion to the monkey, who happily took it to bite.

“There is one way we can end our curse.” He turned around, the monkey jumping on his shoulder to come with him. “All the scattered pieces of the Aztec gold must be restored, and the blood repaid. Thanks to ye, we have the final piece.” The monkey jumped from his shoulder and ran across the room.

The giddy smile he sent her way made him appear a madman, his words filling her with trepidation for what she had to ask next, “And the blood to be repaid?”

“The sins of the father do have a way of reaching their offspring, don’t they?” He smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. “And that why there’s no sense to be killing ya. Yet.”

The air may as well have been sucked from the room, the horror of his words hitting her like a bucket of ice water. Did they mean to kill her? Use her in some sort of blood sacrifice to appease some heathen gods for a curse they believed themselves to be under? Seemingly taking pleasure from the horrified look that befell her, Barbossa used the toe of his boot to flip the apple off the floor and catch it. He once again extended it to her, “Apple?”

She didn’t think rationally; she didn’t have the time. Her only thought was that the man less than a yard away from her, who had attacked her town for a simple piece of gold, stolen her away in the middle of the night, had just informed her that her death was a likelihood. Her eyes darted from the apple, back to him, and then to the door which she knew to be unlocked. The sound her chair scraping across the floor as she pushed herself from the table was overshadowed by her heart thumping out of her chest.

Sensing her actions, Barbossa stood at attention with his arms ready to block her, him being in the way to the door. Flora stepped back to dart around the table and he gave chase, seemingly enjoying their game of cat and mouse. Darting under the table, which was hard in the unfamiliar dress, she emerged from the other side and quickly stood to make way for the door. She had no solid plan if she made it onto the deck, knowing the crew was out there. Her only thought was to grab anything that could float and jump over the side, preferring the unforgiving sea to these bloodthirsty men.

Within a few steps he was upon her, grabbing her from behind by both elbows and she found herself flung back near the table, Barbossa once again blocking her path. She quickly started for the right this time, trying to keep one of the support beams of the cabin between herself and him. He followed her, meeting on the other side of the beam, baring his teeth at her with an, “Arg!”

She’d taken the knife as a precaution, as a security blanket for when she’d try to sleep that night. Hoping to use it at a more opportune moment to aid in an escape or buy her some time to be rescued. But the moment she’d pushed herself from the beam and made for the door, the closest she’d been to it since this farce of a dinner began, she grasped the knife tighter. It was pure instinct to raise it when she felt Barbossa catch her arm and pull her back again, this time crushing her to his chest. She thrust it up and she felt it penetrate below his sternum, the feel of it scraping a rib sickening her.

So much so that when she backed away and saw the knife protruding from him she tepidly apologized, “I-I’m sorry,” She clasped her hands over her mouth and stepped backward. He regarded her with a look of surprise, both at her actions and words. She’d succeeded where she’d failed with Jack Sparrow, she’d fatally wounded a man. It was the ugliest feeling in the world, the knowledge and action of taking a life. Just as her mood was about to turn from sympathetic to angry, herself suddenly so resentful at this man for making her a murderer, Barbossa chuckled.

He pulled the knife right out of his chest, stagnant and wet blood decorated the blade but upon his shirt there was nothing to indicate a wound. He regarded the knife curiously for a moment before turning back to her.

“You thrust the blade upward, that’s good. Takes your victim by surprise and causes more damage,” He then threw the knife behind him, having no care where it landed. “I’m curious though, after killing me what was it you planning on doin’ next?”

Convinced she’d lost her ever-loving mind, she stumbled back and away from him. She’d stabbed him! There was blood on the blade when he pulled it out, the red mess extended up to the hilt. How was he still standing here, this devil, before her? Her flight or fight instinct took over and she walked backward out the door, not taking her eyes off him in case he would disappear like smoke. When her hand felt the door handle she threw it open and took three steps onto the deck when she came to an abrupt halt.

A tall figure was standing near the door with his back turned to her, but as the clouds glided past the moon and drowned the entire deck in it’s brilliance, the man’s flesh seemed to melt away and reveal a skeleton covered in strands of loose hair and rotting clothes. The eyes in his skull looked amused at her gaping at him, and she couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her when he took a step toward her.

Movement on the deck directed her attention to the rest of the crew, more bone men going about their work, chunks of flesh still sticking to parts of their skulls. She stumbled away from skeleton she’d first spotted but jumped when she felt something cold touch her arm and upon looking saw a bony hand had her wrist in its grasp. She followed the arm to the once-man now touching her, and was met with a skull that sported one organic eye and one wooden one.

“Thanks for returnin’ it,” Ragetti said, giggling as she backed away from him.

She turned to run back into the cabin but Barbossa was waiting for her in the doorway. He caught her about the shoulders and forced her to turn back, “Look!”

But she shut her eyes, covering them with her hands. She’d half convinced herself that after stabbing Barbossa she must have been killed by one of the crew, and as a result of her being a murderer was doomed to this hell. But his hands grasped hers and pulled them away from her face, forcing her to look out on deck.

“The moonlight shows us for what we really are,” Barbossa exclaimed. “We are not among the living, so we cannot die. But neither are we dead.” The skeleton crew had all gathered about, looking on at her from their work assignments. Two crewmen were even balancing high up on the mast, sitting down and kicking their feet in a bored manner, the moonlight sneaking through the tattered black sails.

Turning her to face him, his breathe hit her fast with each word, “For too long I’ve been parched of thirst and unable to quench it. For too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died.” He’d let go of her now and took steps toward her, but with every one he took she matched it by backing away.

“I feel nothing!” Pent up intensity escaped him, a desperation creeping out the edges of his words before they took a more nostalgic turn. “Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea.”

He reached out toward her, his hand entering the ray of moonlight Flora had unknowingly stepped into. The flesh melted away, revealing bone and tendons barely clasping onto the ring she’d noticed adorn his finger earlier. It came up as if to stroke her face and she gasped, stepping back, “Nor the warmth of a woman’s flesh.”

The rest him followed, his hair turning ashen and his skin disappearing to reveal the entirety of his teeth which spoke unwaveringly to her, “You’d best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You’re in one!”

She couldn’t speak, she could only gape openly at him as he took the bottle of wine he’d been carrying in his free hand and brought it up to his mouth, uncorking it with his teeth. He brought the bottle up to his mouth and guzzled the wine down, but Flora could only watch in fascinated horror as the red wine traveled down his throat, spilt over his exposed ribcage and dripped onto the floor of the deck.

When it became clear she couldn’t, or wouldn’t move, after everything she’d just witness, Barbossa nodded to someone behind her. She could never describe the feeling of the bony, cold fingers that wrapped around arm and pulled her forward toward the captain’s cabin suddenly turn fleshy soft again once they’d escaped the moonlight. It had been Bo’ sun of all people who’d taken a hold of her, and once he’d pushed her back inside the cabin he’d stepped back. It was Barbossa’s skeletal form that grasped both outer doors and slammed them shut, the force of it causing the doors to bounce before closing again.

Once the door shut her inside and she was alone her body betrayed her. Her knees buckled as she heard Barbossa and the crew laughing before he abruptly yelled for them to get back to work. Crawling toward the back of the cabin she stuffed herself into the corner and drew her knees up, her breathe coming out in harsh pants as she tried to process what she’d just seen.

Flashes of the past day flew past her vision, the little clues that were now explained away by this curse the men were under. The way they stared at her while she drank, how this small number of men were able to attack Port Royal so ruthlessly, and the bed in the corner that hadn’t been slept in. They didn’t eat, they wouldn’t die, and couldn’t sleep.

She didn’t even realize her face was wet both from the cold sweat she’d broken into and the tears that suddenly cascaded down her cheeks. It truly hit her just how hopeless her situation was. Even if someone were to try and rescue her what damage could they do to these men who wouldn’t fall to a sword or cutlass? They most likely would kill her to break this curse, and any attempt she made to jump overboard would result in her drowning or the pirates just fishing her out. Her frustration grew and she found herself gritting her teeth and reaching up onto the window sill for her tartan.

She pulled the fabric, and consequently Beanie, to her face and muffled the scream that escaped her. Not wanting the men outside to hear her break down she lamented into the fabric like she was crying into her mother’s skirt. Oh how she wished her mother was there at that moment. Since she’d died Flora had had to be the strong one take charge of herself, making sure her step-father wouldn’t break down and that her brother Will wouldn’t hide away in his workshop. Essentially having to raise Joanie like she was her child but struggling with that authority, a burden she’d never wanted.

And mostly she wanted Jonathon, her best friend and swain there with her. His carefree attitude was borderline childlike but that’s what she’d always loved about him. When she was sad he’d decide to give her a twirl like they were at a dance and in return she’d wait for him to turn around in the garden only for him to find she’d stuffed grass under nose like a mustache. The seriousness in which they’d try to keep conversing like normal would eventually have them howling with laughter.

But it was with a doleful glance outside the windows of the cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_ that she came to somber conclusion that she would likely never see her family, Jonathon or even grass ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Flora has learned not only is this curse real, but she too gets confirmation that her father is connected to these pirates. And like Will, she will be told of his fate in a rather cruel way.
> 
> Some of the liberties or changes I've made to dialogue are inspired by the original POTC script as well as deleted scenes. The peephole incident was a deleted scene just before Elizabeth dines with Barbossa, but I guess Disney thought it too suggestive.
> 
> *bairn*- Scottish term for baby
> 
> *swain*- admirer, beloved, country lad/gallant


	13. Moonlight Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While their distrust of Jack grows, Elizabeth and Will begin making headway in their feelings toward each other

Elizabeth had only been able to hear snippets after Will was accosted by the large drunk woman looking for company. She knew Will was some sort of leverage Jack now had over Barbossa, and that him being the son of Bootstrap Bill had something to do with it.

“And then he said something about Barbossa only having half the puzzle,” Elizabeth whispered to him, watching as Jack and Gibbs finished their drink. “What can that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Will answered. Furrowing his eyes, Will searched every memory he had of his father, of any conversation he had with him or his mother about the name of a ship, a port, a fellow sailor. Anything that could provide some sort of answer to why Barbossa might need him or Flora, and why it all connected to their father.

“Pst, they’re coming,” Jonathon nudged them. With his usual swagger, Jack came over with Gibbs not far behind them.

“Master Gibbs here has heard of your plight and will procure us a crew for the voyage,” He clapped Gibbs on the shoulder, which did put the older man a bit off balance from drink, “He knows what kind of crew we need and will have them ready by to go by the morning.”

“Surely a missing girl isn’t enough for his troubles,” Elizabeth said, “What’s in it for him and this crew he finds?”

“Smart girl,” Jack grinned at her, “Our heading is the Isla de Muerta, a place where the crew of the _Black Pearl_ is known to hoard their swag and treasure these past ten years. And should acquiring some of the treasure be unsuccessful, then keeping the _Interceptor_ should be a fine payment.”

“You’d keep a ship of the fleet?” Will asked, unconvinced.

Gibbs shrugged, “A paint job, fly it under new colors, a new name. Wouldn’t take much to get us started on some newer and profitable ventures.”

Seemingly having all their bases covered, Jack clapped his hands together, “So we’re all squared away then! But this venture only makes way if Master Gibbs acquires that crew, so he’ll be making haste doing so,” He made a shooing motion toward Gibbs who to his credit, did jovially make his way toward the door. A pep in his step that wasn’t there before, now motivated by a purpose not understood by the three young people.

Seeing Elizabeth trying to suppress a yawn, Will pointed out that it was late and if Gibbs was the one looking for the crew then perhaps they should retire back to the ship. Jack was all for it, and Will was glad just to get Elizabeth away from this disorderly gathering of people. But he should have known that Jack had something else up his sleeve when he said one of them would have to stay behind with him.

“Stay behind? For what?” Will aghast. “Aren’t you coming back as well?”

“I’ve got some business to see to about town. We need to replenish some supplies and I’m checking to make sure my usual contacts are still open and available. Once Gibbs gets here with a crew first thing in the morning—”

“Will he really have a whole crew by then?” Jonathon asked hopefully, though he was doubtful.

“I have every faith he will. But,” Jack emphasized, “Once the crew is assembled we leave immediately, and that means the provisions will need to be at the docks and ready to go. That means I stay on land for the night, and a party returns to the ship to guard it.”

It all sounded very good logic, but Will was was reluctant to leave someone alone in Jack’s company in Tortuga all night. “Why can’t we all return while you stay here?”

“Ah, young Will,” Jack chided. “Those green gills of yours are showing again. Tell me, if I sent all of you back to the ship, along with the dingy and thus my only mode of escaping this bay, how would I guarantee that you lot won’t make off with said ship in the middle of the night?”

“We would never—” Elizabeth began to protest, but Jack held up his hand to silence her.

“I don’t know you from Eve, milady, but I know temptation hisses at us all on occasion,” Jack gestured to the people in the tavern, “Look around, we are swimming in it. And thus I will require one of you to stay behind and accompany me and ensure that ship stays in the bay. A form of leverage if you will.”

At the word ‘leverage’ both Will and Elizabeth stiffened. While Jack knew it unlikely that these three would have the knowledge, nay courage, to steer the ship out of the bay without him, he knew the hard way to never trust someone at face value with something as precious as a ship.

“So which of you is it to be?” He grinned at the three of them. He was not dismayed when none of them immediately stepped forward, but he decided to help speed things along, “Of course we could go by drawing lots. Elizabeth, dear would you—”

“I’ll do it!” Jonathon stepped forward.

Will wanted to protest at leaving Jonathon in Tortuga all night with Jack. But to what end would that lead to? Jack was determined one of them would stay and he couldn’t fathom leaving Elizabeth in the port, or leaving her and Jonathon on a ship by themselves all night. Jack smirked and put an arm around Jonathon, pulling him close.

“That’s a good lad,” He tussled Jonathon’s hair a bit and the boy attempted to squirm away but was locked onto Jack’s side. He turned back to Will and Elizabeth, “You two head back and guard the ship, we’ll meet you at the docks come dawn where Gibbs will meet us.”

Elizabeth sensed Will’s reluctance to leave Jonathon under Jack’s guidance, “Are you sure, Jon?”

To his credit, Jonathon didn’t appear in too much a state of a dread at being left to Sparrow’s devices, of course the lad in question was still trying to pry himself from the pirate’s playful grip on him. Once he did, his flushed face turned to the pair. “I’ll be fine. You two return back to ship, I’ll stay with Jack. You never know, I might even learn a thing or two.”

The insinuation wasn’t lost on Will and Elizabeth, and they hated to admit it but Jonathon could very well use this time to try and pry some information out of Jack under the guise of friendly chatter. He was quite good at it, playing naïve in order to learn or get his way, as he’d done it plenty of times with the marines to educate himself for a possible future with them. When they’d been younger he and Flora had been particularly good at it and would tag-team off each other, especially on a rare day they could all get away and it would be up to Jon and Flora to plan an outing. The two of them would hear of a secret spot in the jungle, either a yet-discovered cave or a waterfall, and would act guile to glean information from the locals or the old salts who had lived in Port Royal longer then they’d been alive. Those long summer days as children trekking through the jungle were some of the happiest they could recall.

And now Jonathon and Flora were once again discovering uncharted territory for the four of them. And while neither party were aware of what the other would undergo until they reunited, it was fair to say that Flora could not have guessed her family and friend were currently under the command of a pirate on a stolen ship. And they in turn could certainly not predict Flora to be on a ship of cursed skeleton men.

After bidding Jonathon goodnight, Will and Elizabeth turned to make their way back to bay. It was the hearty call of Jack behind them that made Will stumble.

“Try to actually sleep, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do you two,” Jack’s insinuating laughter disappeared as he and Jonathon began walking further into the town.

And it suddenly struck Will like a bolt of lightening that he was walking with Elizabeth back to a ship in the middle of the bay, where they would remain for the rest of the night, very much alone. The butterflies in his stomach suddenly gained vigor at the thought, and he fought the urge to take her hand again like he had when keeping her close to their party. He also fought the urge to run back and beg to trade places with Jonathon.

The choice was taken out of his hands on the matter of physical contact when a particularly brazen drunk asked Will what a going rate for a few hours with Elizabeth would go for. Pushing the man away he put his hand on the small of Elizabeth’s back and they hurried to the dock. After helping her inside the dingy, Will untied them from the dock and went about rowing them back toward the _Interceptor_ , refusing Elizabeth’s offer to help. Partly because Will didn’t find it too strenuous to row them, and because this way he could sit face to face with her.

The boisterous and violent racket of Tortuga began to fade away the further they ventured into the bay, akin to uncharted waters. It was Elizabeth who broke the comfortable silence between them, noticing the worried look on Will’s face.

“I’m sure they’ll be alright,” Elizabeth said, trying to send him a reassuring smile.

“Are you speaking of Jonathon and Jack, or of Flora?” He asked between breaths, thankful that his years hammering away in the smithy gave him the arm strength to row.

“Both.”

Elizabeth had never had the chance to notice just how strong Will actually was. Flora had mentioned how good he had been when sword fighting against Jack in the smithy, and she wished he didn’t hide such talent. When they’d all first arrived in Port Royal she could always remember him running head first into any task or game they played, but he was also a nurturer much like Flora. Elizabeth saw it especially now in this venture to rescue his sister, this responsibility he’s always carried as the oldest of all of them, even when he didn’t live with them.

She remembered the day he left the manor to live in the smithy permanently, and how she felt like a part of her was leaving with him. An ache in her breast that took weeks to go away was only lifted once Flora started delivering little notes and messages between them. She’d kept the scraps of paper pressed into one of her books, and would sit up in bed and look at his neat handwriting. The notes were a far cry from being scandalous in nature, but they were the thoughts they could not say out loud whenever they were face to face. There was always her father there, or a chaperone, or a marine, or someone to look down on their interactions. The notes ranged from a mundane _‘Thank you for thinking of me’_ to _‘Thoughts of you crossed my mind when I looked out my window’_.

“I wish I knew why Barbossa took Flora,” Will’s voice jolted her from her yearning. “Jack said Barbossa only has half the puzzle, do you think he means me as well?”

“I’m not sure,” Elizabeth shrugged. “He said he’d gotten everything he came for, I assumed he meant all the treasure and goods he’d stolen during the raid.” Elizabeth had yet to tell Will about the medallion, and she’d assumed Jonathon hadn’t said anything either. She wondered how to bring it up, her guilt going back eight years over taking it.

He’d stopped rowing for a moment, putting the oars down and rubbing his arms. The waters were still and they’d escaped whatever current was near the shore, so they had no fear of being pushed back toward Tortuga. Elizabeth also found she had no reason to hurry to the ship, quite liking sitting in this little dingy with Will. Just as she’d worked up the courage to tell Will about the medallion, he regarded her with his soft brown eyes and found herself lost in them.

He smiled and leaned forward. “I never got the chance to thank you, Elizabeth.”

“Whatever for?” She was taken aback.

“For coming with us. I know it couldn’t have been easy to leave Port Royal the way we did and I have no idea how we will be received once we get back,” He would be a fool to think they wouldn’t be arrested, of Jonathon losing his chance to join the navy, even the possibility of being hanged. “But despite all of that you still came, even though you probably have the most to lose considering who your father is.”

She leaned forward, “Will, it’s because of who my father is that I may sadly get off more lightly than you.”

“Yes, but even if you escape charges I’m afraid we’ve ruined your standing. What will the people back in Port Royal think about the governor’s daughter running off on a stolen ship? They certainly must know by now.” Will knew that her position in society was precarious, that even with the influence of her father she could easily be shunned.

“Will, I don’t care about that.”

“You say that now but—”

But Elizabeth was having none of, her tone turning sharply. “Will Turner, you listen to me now! I am here with you because Flora is my dearest friend. Because I care so deeply,” She abruptly paused just before she could finish that with _‘about you’_. “About your family and your happiness. I want her back just as much as you especially because this is all my fault.”

Those beautiful brown eyes of his furrowed and he watched Elizabeth fight back tears. She had been locked in this internal struggle with herself since the pirates had released them, about how they’d come for the gold she had hidden away until that morning because of her strange dream. How in a way to ease her guilt she had returned it to Flora, who may as well have hung a piece of the finest venison around her neck the way it baited the pirates right to her.

“Elizabeth,” Will whispered, and when she looked up after wiping a tear away she saw he was much closer. “You can’t blame yourself. They stormed your house not knowing who would be there, never mind a woman of high standing they could ransom.” He had assumed, just like Elizabeth and his siblings had when they’d first been abducted, that the pirates wanted to ransom the children of the powerful man that lived in that fine house.

“But it really is my—”

But Will would have none of it. “No, it’s not! It’s that horrid captain and the rest of those pirates who are to blame for this. If it wasn’t for you and Jonathon’s quick thinking they may have taken all of you away or killed you back at the manor.” He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the state of the manor when he’d ran there after coming to in the street. “I went to your house first before coming to the fort. Seeing the carnage they left there, the state of the bedrooms and the blood on the floor. So many terrible thoughts went through my mind, especially after I saw them drag you all away.”

Reaching out and tentatively taking one of her hands he marveled at how soft it was compared to his. He tried to pour every ounce of emotion he could into the reassuring squeeze he gave it, trying to ignore the pink hue of her lips and how they matched the blush forming on her cheeks.

“I was overjoyed when I found all of you alive at the fort. And I’m glad you’re here with us trying to get Flora back,” He smiled softly at her. “And have no doubt, we _will_ get her back.”

And for a moment Elizabeth forgot her guilt, focusing on how he was looking at her and knowing that no man, not even James Norrington, could ever make her feel this elevated with their words and their eyes the way Will Turner could. He could make her feel brave even in her darkest hours.

Reluctantly letting go of her hand, Will picked up the oars again. “I suppose I should get us back to the ship.”

“There’s no rush,” Elizabeth whispered. They’d been floating peacefully on the ocean for their entire conversation, the _Interceptor_ not far off in the distance and not going anywhere anytime soon. “It’s quite peaceful out here away from all that noise. A rather calm evening compared to the events of last night.” Then she turned her gaze upward, resting her chin in her hand. “Look at the moon, Will. It’s quite beautiful tonight.”

As Will slowly began rowing back he took time to look and see that the clouds in the night sky had indeed parted to let the rather full moon escape and shine down upon the bay. It reflected in the ocean around them and cast everything about it in a luminescent glow, revealing Tortuga, and many other things, in a new light.

“Yes, quite beautiful,” Will said, not taking his eyes off her as he rowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll weren't expecting character analysis but you're gonna get it.
> 
> The next few chapters are going to be parallel developments between Flora's journey on the Black Pearl and her family's journey on the Interceptor.
> 
> This chapter and the last deal with the themes of the moon, which symbolizes and embodies change, cycles, shadows, revealings, and time. The moon in this case serves as a way to shed light on situations for our characters but reveals vastly different results. The moonlight of course reveals of the horrors of the cursed crew of the Black Pearl to Flora. This breaks down her mentality and forces her to confront that a force more powerful than she'd ever believed to be possible is in fact real. Her entire basis for reality has been shattered and now she must forge an entirely new path in order to survive.
> 
> Meanwhile the moon serves as a calming presence for Will and Elizabeth as they row back to the Interceptor. It's a contrast between the wildness of Tortuga and the placid waters of the bay. Under the moonlight they are allowed to be closer, to express their guilt and happiness over being there for one another and trying to assure themselves that their mission to rescue Flora will be successful. Exploring the growing love between Will and Elizabeth is something I really want to explore as they make their way to Isla de Muerta.
> 
> Also, what do you think Jack and Jonathon are going to get up to? I know this chapter didn't really get too much into Jonathon's thoughts and feelings, but that is going to happen soon. By the last couple of chapters I haven't had much of a time to explore his dealing with Flora being abducted, the girl he's loved since they were children, and I'm sure people think of him almost like a little kid at this point. Have you noticed how he and Will are very different when they arrive in Tortuga, how even Will notices Jon is more fascinated then disgusted with the town? While both lads are fearless and bound for adventure, they go about it different ways, and it's quite clear at this point that Jon is just experiencing it earlier. 
> 
> Elizabeth is clearly stifled by society and longs to be free of the stigmas that make her hide her feelings in public. And it's really just Flora's responsibilities at home that bound her there, getting hints of that in the last chapter when she starts to admit to herself she was burdened with responsibilities she didn't want upon her mother dying. And that doesn't mean she isn't a good sister to Joanie or resents the girl, but that she resents it's fallen to her. Jonathon told his father that Flora would come with him should he be stationed permanently at a post outside of Port Royal. That wasn't Jonathon being selfish in a sense of "wherever I go my wife will follow", but knowing that she too yearns for an escape. However, as a woman Flora is more restricted, and there were very few respectable ways they could leave home or travel freely in such a way. Him joining the navy and eventually marrying Flora would provide them both that.


	14. Songs and Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora is forced out of her comfort zone and begins to make an impression on the crew of the Black Pearl. After waking from a nightmare, Will and the others meet their buccaneer crew and prepare to leave Tortuga

She sat in that corner of the cabin most of the night, condemned once again to hours of dark sleeplessness as she waited for any of the skeleton crew to make their way into the cabin. She found the knife Barbossa had carelessly thrown behind him after removing it from his chest, to her horror still covered in now-clotted blood, and gripped it tight. Knowing they couldn’t be killed but still taking comfort in it, she waited with baited breath to see if anyone would come through the still-unlocked doors.

After hours of sitting at attention and still with no pirate in sight, Flora shakily stood up and sat on the window sill. From the higher angle she could see the food still on the table from Barbossa’s interrupted dinner, the meat now having grown cold and several of the plates having shifted with the rocking of the ship. She wondered if she’d be fed again after this, or were they so close to this ill sounding Isla de Muerta that this was to be a final meal for their condemned prisoner before they spilled her blood to break this horrific curse? Taking to nibbling on strips of meat to keep her strength up, even though she was far from hungry, she tried to listen to any of the activity outside the cabin. Sometimes she’d hear a man bellow out an order or raucous laughter from far away, but it seemed the pirates deemed her to be left alone for the time being.

It was just before dawn when she’d eaten her fill that she’d finally let herself break down and have a long cry. In the night when she convinced herself she had to hide from monsters that she’d told Joanie weren’t real, and in the daylight when these men paraded themselves as nothing but humble pirates. She had to be brave and on guard during these times, but at the dawn when the world was blurring she allowed herself to be weak. Her mother had told them stories of the thinning of the veil between their world and the land of the fairies during dusk, dawn, and solstices. A small part of her decided that those strange fae creatures, whether on land or sea, would be the only witness to her pitiful tears.

Through her tears she stripped off the dark red dress Barbossa had given her and put her mother’s tartan back on. It acted as armor; a connection back to her family, her ancestral home and her culture. Scots went to war wearing them during battle and so would she in the coming days ahead. She took the cleaner knife from the table, abandoning the one that had Barbossa’s blood on it, and tucked it into the folds of her tartan.

Since the pirates chose not to disturb her she decided to explore the cabin again. She took one of the napkins from the table and covered the peephole she’d found the night before, and went to look at the books she saw stacked against one of the walls. Most of the titles written in English were unknown to her except for two copies of Shakespeare plays, _Hamlet_ and _Richard III._ The rest were unknown and she resolved to reading them later.

The next couple of hours she explored the little wardrobe, but found nothing of interest especially since she was not going to wear the spare shirt or coat she’d found in there. She’d decided to combat some of the boredom that was creeping up on her by continuously walking around in circles, tracing her hand along any surface she could and counting steps. Then she counted how many times the boards creaked. And then she counted how long she could hold her breathe before she had to inhale. The deja-vu hit her so suddenly as she remembered that these were little dallies her, Will and Jonathon would engage in while they were traveling on the _Princess_ all those years ago. Starting to feel quite silly she started to pretend to tilt dramatically every time the ship rolled with a wave, humming a tune and continuing a verse every time the ship righted itself. She’d gone through quite a few songs and had now decided on _‘The Spanish Lady’_.

_“As I roved out thro' Dublin city  
At the hour of twelve o' the night,  
Who should I spy but a Spanish Lady  
Washing her feet by candlelight.  
First she washed them, then she dried them  
Over a fire of amber coal.  
In all my life I ne'er did see  
A maid so neat about the sole.”  
  
_

She heard footsteps above her on the quarterdeck and wondered who was steering. Was it Barbossa or someone else? Knowing the pirates had no need of human necessities like food, drink and sleep, she did wonder if they required rest of any kind or had they shed that all together. Picking up part of her skirt she swayed lightly and rolled her head back from shoulder to shoulder.

_“Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-laddy  
Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-lee  
Whack for the too-ra loo-ra-laddy  
What for the too-ra loo-ra-lee.”_

Stifling a scream as the door suddenly burst open, she stumbled forward before catching her footing. She put a hand to her chest to catch her breath and looked up to see Pintel and Ragetti had come in once again. A huff of frustration left her and she fought the urge to scream at them to get out before reminding herself that this was _their_ ship.

“What do you want?” She asked coldly. Just because she was at the mercy of these men did not mean she had to act cordially to them.

“Do you know a song about a girl called Colleen?” Pintel asked.

She blinked at them, “What?”

Ragetti repeated it very slowly as if she were the daft one, this question honestly being the last thing she expected. She asked, “Were you listening to me sing?” They nodded. “Why?”

Ragetti motioned back toward the doors sullenly, “You covered the peephole.”

“Of course I covered the bloody peephole!” She half yelled indignantly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Oi, we’re assigned to guard you. Make sure you don’t get any ideas ‘bout escaping,” Pintel replied defensively. Ragetti nodded behind him.

Flora’s arm swept the rest of the room behind her, “Where could I possibly go?”

Rolling his eyes, Pintel repeated his earlier question, “So do you know a song about a girl called Colleen, or not?”

“No!” Flora answered snidely. She answered without thinking but honestly didn’t think she knew one, in no mood at the moment to do any favors for these men. The three of them stood there in silence while Flora crossed her arms and waited for them to continue, or mock or chide her. Instead they did something which bewildered Flora even more; they had the nerve to look downright disappointed. Saddened, even, in the right light.

“Fine,” Pintel said, and he and Ragetti turned to walk back out. Flora didn’t now why she did it or why she even cared, but her intuition was screaming out to her to make amends, not for the sake of these pirates but for her own self preservation. Also her curiosity was beginning to win out.

“Wait!” She called out, and they stopped to look back at her, “Can you hum it? Maybe I’ll recognize it.” Watching these two grown men hum the song they’d hoped she’d know was more funny then she cared to admit. It reminded her of Joanie as a toddler when she had been still learning to talk.

And she was surprised when she realized she did in fact know the song they were humming and informed them so. It was called _Star of the County Down_ or something similar, “But why do you think its about girl called Colleen? It’s about a girl called Rosie.”

“No it’s not,” Pintel argued, “He calls the girl ‘Colleen’ in the song.”

“Yeah! What version do you think you know?” Ragetti asked, skeptically.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Her name isn’t Colleen, the man in the song calls the girl a _[cailín](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/cail%C3%ADn#Irish)_ ,” When she was met with confusion she explained, “It’s an Irish word for a young maid.”

“Fine, agree to disagree then!” Pintel snapped at Flora and Ragetti, “Point is of the matter is, you do know the song?”

Oh, she had a feeling she was going to regret this, and she gritted her teeth before hissing, “Yes.”

All but jumping with glee, Ragetti started running for to the doors of the cabin, one of which had been left ajar. It seemed with the cat out of the bag concerning their curse they no longer felt the need to press upon her the direness of the situation nor care for her state of emotional welfare about being exposed to them. Flora could do nothing to escape these undead men at the moment and Barbossa had already implied she was needed alive and incapable (and reluctantly, on the pirate’s part) of being molested.

Ragetti made it out the door just as Pintel grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward to lead her out, Ragetti’s voice heard yelling outside, “Oi, gents! She knows the song!”

This was followed by the cheering of many pirates outside on deck, and Flora found herself suddenly scrambling to keep herself in the cabin. What on earth did they expect her to do, be their entertainment? As she was being hauled out by Pintel she attempted to grab a chair, and upon only just grazing it with her fingertips she attempted to latch onto the corner of the doorway. But with only one hand it was difficult to hold on and Pintel was much stronger than he looked, prying her fingers off before hauling her through the doorway and into the blinding mid-morning sun.

A group of pirates were on deck, some working, some pretending to work, and all laughing at her expense when they saw her fighting with Pintel as he dragged her toward the mast. “What are you doing? Stop it!” She yelled, already having an idea of what they’d wanted her to do, and honestly it seemed to scare her more than being threatened with a sword.

She loved to sing to herself as she worked back at the manor in Port Royal, even joining with a few of the other maids to pass the time. But she absolutely froze anytime somebody suggested she do it for others in a small crowd or gathering, all the attention being on her. Her voice was descent but untrained, her knowledge of lyrics improvised when needed but lost when all eyes turned to her. Her parents had tried to get her to entertain friends at holiday gatherings but they quickly learned she’d rather shut herself in a closet. She couldn’t explain it, she was sociable and loved telling people stories and talking and laughing with others but the thought of singing for a crowd with all eyes on her horrified her.

“No, no, no, no, no….” She frantically whispered as Ragetti, to her horror, brought a barrel over to the mast and made motion that she was to stand upon it. She shook her head frantically and tried to run back to the cabin but was yanked back by Pintel.

“What, now you’ve got stage fright, missy?” He sneered at her but was nonetheless bewildered. “You want some rum to loosen you up a bit?”

“I’ll loosen her up a bit!” A pirate’s voice laughed from across the deck. If she hadn’t been so horrified at suddenly being made to sing she’d say something just as rude back at him.

Instead she shook her head, “I’ve never had rum, I’m more likely to vomit than sing if you make me drink that stuff. Actually, I might just vomit if you make me sing. Just let me back into the cabin, please.”

“You ain’t going back into the cabin. In fact, look!” He motioned behind them where several pirates were standing in front of the door, guarding it. It looked like one of them had even made it inside. “I know the captain ain’t told ya how long it’s going to take to get to the Isla de Muerta. Could be days, weeks, even a month as far as you know. You’ve got enough food in there to keep for a couple days but what happens after that? You want us to keep feeding ya? Giving ya water? Then it’s time ya sang for your supper.” He shoved her toward the barrel.

She wanted to curl in on herself and just cry, her hands trembling as she tried to calm down enough to get through this. Would they care if she sang well? There was no way her voice would be up to the caliber it was in the privacy behind a closed door. Her stomach felt twenty pounds heavier and anchored her to the spot. But her absurd rescuer came in the form of Ragetti of all people, who as a more bashful character when compared to the other pirates, seemed to recognize the quandary she was suffering. He sidled up to her, taking note of her sullen posture and her eyes downcast in embarrassment.

“Hey, you’ll do fine,” He said softly, she side-eyed him warily when he offered her his hand to help her up on the barrel. “I’ll stay right here and sing it with you if it’ll help.”

She bit her lip, looking at his dirty hand that he offered and taking note he could hardly make eye contact with her even with one eye. Maybe it was her pensive resolution that she would not be getting out of this, or maybe it was because this was the first crumb of human kindness she had been offered since being abducted. Even if it was from the same hand that had almost thrown her baby sister over the side of this very ship, she reluctantly took it and was helped onto the wobbly barrel that was to be her stage.

Clutching the mast as she steadied herself, she turned around and to her horror saw that more pirates had come on deck, apparently have heard she was to sing for them. True to his word Ragetti had not left her side by the barrel, and in fact seemed to be reveling in his role at this reluctant duet they were to perform. He looked up at Flora and with his eyes (the real one. At least) asked if she was ready, and she hoped her look conveyed that she would kill all of them the moment the curse was lifted. Ragetti started the first two verses.

_“Near Banbridge town in the County Down  
One evening last July”  
  
_

He looked up at her, deciding it was her turn to continue. She looked down to avoid seeing the men’s faces, deciding that it helped her stage fright. Her voice was soft at first and honestly more monotone than she cared to admit at first.

_“Down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín_ _  
_ _And she smiled as she passed me by”_

She looked down to Ragetti, who shook his head and motioned for her to keep going. Apparently he’d done his job in singing and now it was entirely up to her.

_“She looked so neat in her two bare feet  
And the sheen of her nut-brown hair  
Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself  
To make sure I was standing there_

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay  
From Galway to Dublin town  
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín_ _  
_ _That I met in the County Down”_

Then the men that had gathered were nodding along with the word, and then mumbling and some had begun singing along. She remembered how she’d heard cheering when Ragetti announced she’d known the song and she wondered if a large portion of them were from Ireland, or if the girl in the song just reminded them of a young maid they’d pined for before they took up pirating. It was humanizing them to her in a way she wished it wouldn’t.

_“As she onward sped, and I shook me head  
And I gazed with a feeling queer  
And I said, says I, to a passerby  
"Who's your one with the nut-brown hair?"_

_He smiled at me, and with pride says he  
"She's the gem of old Ireland's crown  
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann  
And the star of the County Down"_

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay  
From Galway to Dublin town  
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín_ _  
_ _That I met in the County Down”_

Her voice was rising in volume and when she realized that the pirates weren’t going to mock her the nerves she’d had started to disappear. It was the fear of embarrassment that usually kept her from engaging in such activities.

_“She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly  
And a smile like a rose in June  
And you held each note from her auburn throat  
As she lilted lamenting tunes_

_At the pattern dance you'd be in a trance  
As she skipped through a jig or a reel  
When her eyes, she'd roll, ah she'd lift your soul  
And your heart, she would likely steal”_

Some of the men had actually taken to attempting an Irish jig of sorts, and couple hooked at the elbows and swung each other around in circles, laughing when one stumbled or they let go and fell into one another. Their playful manner after the horror she had endured at their hands was very strange for Flora to comprehend.

_“From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay  
From Galway to Dublin town  
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín_ _  
_ _That I met in the County Down_

_At the harvest fair she'll be surely there  
And I'll dress in me Sunday clothes  
With my hat cocked right and me shoes shone bright  
For a smile from the nut-brown Rose”_

Even Flora laughed a little when Ragetti, upon hearing these last lyrics, took to pantomiming dressing in fancy clothes and cocking a hat as Pintel joined him in acting high and proper. Bo’ sun was standing in a corner of the ship, his arms crossed and his face hardened, seemingly content to just supervise rather than engage. During the repeating chorus she could hardly be heard over the men who bellowed the lyrics on deck.

_“No horse I'll yoke, or pipe I'll smoke  
'Til the rust in my plough turn brown  
And a smiling bride by my own fireside  
Sits the star of the County Down_

_From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay  
From Galway to Dublin town  
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín_ _  
_ _That I met in the County Down.”_

The song finally over, Flora took a breath and allowed herself to relax. She’d been leaning against the mast the entire time, one arm wrapped around it to act as an anchor while she sang. It gave her something to focus on and made singing easier. With Ragetti’s help she climbed off the barrel with all intents and purposes to return to the cabin and allow her heart rate to return to normal, hoping the crew was content for now and would leaver her be.

They were not.

When she was stopped from leaving she had asked why, and Pintel just raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you have a pressing appointment we don’t know about?” He and Ragetti elbowed each other and laughed.

In hindsight she should have been grateful they didn’t make her sing again, but when she’d tried to walk back to the cabin Pintel and Ragetti wouldn’t allow it and neither did the couple of men standing in front of the doors. Instead they’d brought the water bucket out and told her she could now have a drink. It was a level of humiliation she needed to get over quick, being told when she was allowed to drink and eat, and then having to get over being watched doing it. She didn’t know why these men tortured themselves so, she certainly would not want to watch someone enjoy the simple pleasure of drinking when they themselves were starving to death for the past decade.

Ragetti and Pintel had gone into the cabin and emerged with a plate of some cut up bread and an apple. Realizing she wouldn’t be allowed off deck any time soon she took a seat on the barrel that had served as her stage and leaned back against the mast. There was a little bit of shade but certainly they couldn’t expect her to remain out there all day; they may not be able to suffer from heatstroke but she certainly could, and they made it clear she was no use to them dead.

Her appointed guards also had to keep their work duties going, so while she nibbled on her bread Pintel and Ragetti were scrubbing parts of the deck clean and talking, sometimes trying to include her in the conversation. She mostly just nodded or shrugged, having no clue what they were talking about half the time, and mostly just trying to ignore the stares of any crew members that walked by.

She found herself staring off into the horizon, and judging by the sun it was toward the east. Her hair had gotten noticeably frizzier with the increased humidity and she had never wished for one of her caps, even a Jonathon’s hat, more than now. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone this long without wearing one during the day. Of course she couldn’t remember a day scarcely these last few years where she’d been the one to sit back and watch other people work. Where did the upper class find such pleasure in sitting and doing nothing? A pressure was growing in her ears and every time she bit into her bread she tried to get rid of it. She pinpointed the cause and continued to stare off into the east.

“Oi, poppet!” She tore her gaze away and saw that Pintel had been trying to get attention for the past couple of minutes. He and Ragetti were standing near the railing, but what caught her attention was what Pintel was holding in his hand: Beanie.

She scrambled off the barrel and put the plate down on top of it, still palming the apple, and marched over to them, “Give that to me right now!”

He leaned back when she tried to snatch it from him, keeping her at bay with one arm while passing the doll off to Ragetti behind him, “Didn’t think you needed a dolly to help you get to sleep. What, you want some company in the bed?” He made a kissy face at her and she reeled back, fighting the urge to slap him.

“That’s my sister’s, now give it back!” She tried to reach around him but Ragetti jumped back, giggling. “Don’t you dare drop that or I’ll throw you over to get it back.”

Ragetti looked down at the worn little thing, “Don’t look like much, why you want it back so bad?”

She huffed, “I was only thirteen when I made it, so sorry if it doesn’t look that great; trust me I’ve gotten better. And I want it back because it doesn’t belong to me and I have every intention of returning it to her.” She was able to bypass Pintel but Ragetti threw the doll over head and his partner caught it. She was not going to play monkey in the middle with these two like schoolboys on a playground.

“What’ll you give me for it?” Pintel asked slyly.

“I’ll give you a swift kick to the behind that even your undead arse will feel it if you don’t hand it over,” She snapped

“Hmm, I was thinking a kiss,” He laughed when she backed up a step and bumped right into Ragetti, who laughed and tried to grab her around the waist. She quickly dislodged herself.

“Huh, I was thinking a slap.” She threatened, paling when she saw Pintel hold the doll over the railing by its raggedy arms.

“You raise a hand, I’ll release mine. Goodbye, dolly.”

This fight wasn’t worth the doll in hindsight, and honestly she should have walked away then and there and shifted the power they had over her in making her upset. They were bored and clearly she was an outlet for entertaining them. But a childish part of her told her if she lost that doll she lost her chance to get back home, to returning it to Joanie. That if Beanie was to be lost or thrown over than it may as well have been Flora herself who was lost forever. So instead she said something that began to turn the tide in her favor for the rest of her journey on the _Black Pearl_ , though she certainly wouldn’t see it that way. What she was about to tell them seemed quite obvious to her.

“How about I tell you a secret instead?” She offered.

Now this stumped them, clearly by the bewildered looks on their faces they had thought she would kiss them or give up and walk away. “A secret,” Ragetti asked, and she nodded. “What kind of secret?”

She walked innocently over to them with an air of disinterest, “A secret you’ll certainly want to know. Because you see, it concerns the both of you, everyone on this ship, in fact.” The men shared a look, still not trusting her but their interest was piqued. She motioned for them to lean forward, because of course secrets were meant to be whispered. Her voice dipped low and menacingly she relayed to them, “There’s a storm coming from the east, can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it? I’ve summoned it as revenge for you kidnapping me, and I hope it tears this entire boat to pieces.” For a moment their eyes widened (even Ragetti’s wooden one) and they both looked over the railing to the east. Quick as a cat she snatched back Beanie.

“Hey!”

“No fair!”

She took a step back when she thought they might try to take the doll back, but they resolved to just looking downtrodden with themselves. “A secret for a doll, as delivered.” She tried not to grin at her little victory but found it hard.

“That’s not a secret, there’s no storm coming!” Pintel motioned to the clear white clouds and blue sky.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes, there is!”

“How do you know?” Ragetti challenged.

Before she could answer a shadow fell over them, the voice of Captain Barbossa creeping behind her, “Yes, lass. Pray tell, how do you know a storm is coming?”

She whipped around, clutching the doll and her apple to her chest, resembling a small child when compared to the captain of this ghost ship. Bo’ sun was standing next to him, merely looking annoyed at her presence. Not having seen Barbossa since last night, she had to blink away the image of the wine dripping down his chest cavity as he revealed the true weight the curse bore upon them, to this man before her now in his camouflaged flesh.

Realizing he was truthfully waiting for her answer, she looked down shyly. “I can feel a pressure in my ears, usually only happens when the weather changes,” Suddenly it occurred to her that of course they couldn’t feel the pressure change, nor could they feel a strong wind once it hit them since this curse rotted that ability away. “And my hair’s gone frizzier, meaning rain is most likely coming. And also the clouds,” She pointed not at the puffy singular clouds that drifted over the ship, but to the ones creeping up from the horizon. “See how they’re thinner and really spread out, so much that I can see the blue from the sky through them? They mean rain within a few hours.”

Barbossa scrutinized her before walking to the railing and pulling out his spyglass to look in the direction she’d pointed. Pintel and Ragetti were leaning over the railing trying to get a better look, but Bo’ sun had stayed right where he was just a few feet from her. His tall stature and large muscles intimidated her completely and she already knew he wasn’t above hitting a woman for something as simple as talking out of turn. He saw the doll in her arm and sneered, causing her to flush and look out toward the ocean with the other three.

After a moment the captain snapped the spyglass shut and whipped around to look at her before turning to Bo’ sun, “The little miss is right. Storm is brewing in the east and will be here by the evening. Coax the sails an’ keep an eye out for shoals, keep a whether eye out until it gets closer and we may be better to skirt around it.”

Bo’ sun nodded before turning his gaze to the woman, “Did you bring this storm to our door, witch?”

She managed a glare at him, “I don’t need magic when I have two perfectly good eyes. And all five of my senses.” She muttered that last part but knew Bo’ sun heard her.

“She said she brought the storm down on us for kidnapping her!” Ragetti pointed at her from the railing like he was telling on a naughty child. Both she and Barbossa rolled their eyes.

“You believed me? I’m the only one on this ship who could die if it sank in a storm, so why would I risk that?” She couldn’t believe she actually had to defend herself from a witch accusation on a ship of cursed men. Her voice then took on a mocking tone “Although, maybe to make sure I didn’t really bring about a storm you should set me off in a dingy and I’ll be on my merry way.”

A barking laughter escaped from Barbossa and he pushed himself off from the railing, his steps toward her were slow and deliberate. He seemed to be sizing her up as she averted her eyes and looked down. She’d hoped he’d continue walking right past her but he stopped on her right side, mere inches away, looking down at her.

“You often in the habit of predicting storms for sailors, Miss Turner?” The tone he took was derisive but Flora suspected he was genuinely curious.

“I’m not predicting anything, Captain. Any of the crew would have noticed the signs eventually,” She added, still not looking at him. “I just so happened to be out here and looking at the right spot to see it.”

“Well then I suppose ‘twas a good thing you were out here then to spot it first,” He laughed. “Must have found myself distracted at the wheel, thankfully catching your rip-roaring performance you graced us with earlier.” He took notice how her ears and cheeks absolutely flushed with embarrassment, and despite the fact that he couldn’t feel it he reached up and lightly pinched the shell of her ear. She flinched and turned to glare at him.

“Well my guard dogs threatened to stop feeding me if I didn’t,” She held up the apple. “Believe me, nothing I do on this ship is to please you.”

“And yet your very presence on this ship is a gift to us, one almost ten years over due. Speaking of gifts,” He looked her up and down, “Where be the dress we provided you with last night?”

“In the cabin.”

“And why aren’t you wearin’ it now?”

She shrugged, “It’s an evening dress. ‘Tis morning now, and the hot sun forbids it.”

It was an answer that seemed to begrudgingly satisfy him, of course that only meant that Flora had obstinately agreed that she would be putting the dress back on at some point. But that wouldn’t be until the evening and she doubted she’d be expected to be parading around outside in that dress if a storm was approaching. Of course how many evenings she’d have to endure it was still up for debate.

“How long until we get to this Isla de Muerta?” She asked.

Barbossa raised and eyebrow at her and smiled, “I think we’ll be keeping that bit of information mum to you, Miss. After all, wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise of when the island comes into view. It’s quite a stunningly horrific sight when one first lays eyes upon it.” Even he knew she was reading between the lines and saw that the less she knew the less time she had to plot an escape. “You understand of course.”

“I merely wanted to know how many future performances I should expect to conduct.” She replied quite bitterly, already knowing the crew would probably make her sing again. “Is there anything else I can do instead? I know you’ve no need for a cook, but I started my days early and worked until nightfall, cleaning and sewing in the like. I’m not shy from hard work; can’t I do something like that instead?”

“This be a ship, lass. Do you have any idea what goes into running a ship?” She shook her head. “When be the last time you were on one?”

“Eight years ago, on the crossing.”

The little monkey that had been absent up until now ran across the deck from wherever it had been lurking before. It looked to be heading toward its master but instead darted to Flora, who froze as it leapt up and latched onto her skirt before climbing up the rest of her torso. It used her shoulder as a launching point to take its favorite spot next to Barbossa’s head.

The captain clicked his tongue at her, “Now what a shame that be, a daughter of an old sea dog knowing nothing of this life. But it not be my job nor inclination to teach you right now, and especially not let you go wandering about below deck. You weren’t brought here for labor; your purpose here has already been made clear to you. Your survival before and after will be entirely up to you.” She schooled her emotions carefully as to not to show her relief. When he’d first revealed they hadn’t killed her yet because she was needed to satisfy blood lust for some heathen Aztec gods she had assumed her death was all but sealed. This sliver of hope he was offering her may also just be a ploy to keep her compliant until then, but he could have easily just kept her locked in the brig if that was the case.

“And what is expected of me to gain this more favorable outcome?” She asked, already dreading what humiliating things he could say. She could hear Pintel and Ragetti snickering and already knew the crude scenarios they were coming up with.

“Let’s be starting off with general less-irksome behavior,” He said, “Don’t get in the way of our work and I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t attempt to stab me or my crew again. Speaking of which,” He held his hand out to her and flexed his fingers, “If you’d be so kind as to handing over that knife I know you’ve got hidden on your person.”

She froze, wondering how he’d known. Had his men in the cabin earlier counted the cutlery and realized one was missing, or had he seen the the shine of the hilt in the back of the skirt where she’d knotted it off, thinking it hidden so well?

“I can always have Bo’ sun hold ya still while I search for it.”

His tone was nonchalant but the threat was very much there, and she did not want Bo’ sun anywhere near her or probing fingers under her clothes. Immediately shoving the cloth doll under the arm that was still holding the apple, she quickly reached into the back of skirt and surrendered the sharp cutlery to him. He took it with a smirk, twirling it in his hands for a moment.

“Thankee, Miss Turner,” He took a step to leave her then but not before she felt his hand come down quickly on her backside with a smack. She yelped and jumped away from him, her alarmed look sending both him and Bo’ sun into barking rounds of laughter. He took in the audience of several pirates on deck who witnessed her humiliation and shrugged, “Had to be sure. You understand, milady.”

He and Bo’ sun walked away and Flora tried to contain her yell of frustration she wanted to throw at him. Instead she took three steps backward to keep her back against the mast should any other pirate try to follow Barbossa’s example and ‘have to be sure’ she wasn’t hiding another knife on her. She knew then why she wasn’t just locked up in the brig for the duration of the journey. After all, when was the last time they had something to torment or entertain them in so long? Even though they couldn’t feel it if they touched her, she knew acts of assault and intimidation were about the feeling of power rather than pleasure. That made these men more dangerous.

She wasn’t told she could return to cabin and truth be told she no longer had the powerful desire to. It reminded her too much of running away after a fight, of a defeat she hadn’t, and wouldn’t, acknowledge. Tucking Beanie into the waist of her skirt for safe keeping, she decided to munch on her apple and continue keeping an eye out on the horizon.

It could almost be described as a relaxing moment until Pintel waltzed up to her, “So you’ve really never tried rum before?”

“ _That’s_ what you’ve decided to retained from this whole morning?” She deadpanned, mouth still full.

“So, what do you drink then?” he asked, honestly astonished there could be anything else she would dare drink instead of rum.

“Water,” She shrugged, still staring straight ahead. “And whiskey.”

Up on the quarterdeck and out of her earshot, Barbossa and Bo’ sun stood at the wheel. Even hardened and intimidating men such as themselves could allow the the buzz of excitement to flow through them, the rest of the crew certainly not hiding their feelings of vindication. After a decade of searching for all 882 pieces of gold, with the final one taking these last four years alone, Barbossa could admit to it now that he himself had almost given up hope at ever finding it. He remembered his outrage upon watching the _Princess_ being engulfed in flames, that one cannon going off when he hadn’t given the order, when he’d specifically wanted to rake up on its side and board it.

They needed the gold and the child, and he thought he’d lost them both. When they saw the navy ship in the distance he knew that he couldn’t risk searching for survivors with that level of gun power on such a King’s vessel. So he grudgingly ordered a slow retreat but not before demanding the irresponsible gunner be brought forth. It was a man by the name of Schimberg and Barbossa had thoughts of sending him down to meet the same fate of Bootstrap. Instead they’d waited until that night when the moon was out and tore him apart one limb at a time, throwing bits of him over the side in along trail that the captain hoped attracted sharks. It was still fairly early in their curse and the flesh hadn’t completely left their bones yet, still enough to entice sea creatures of all sorts into a meal.

Schimberg had already given his blood in repayment to the chest, so he was not needed any longer. It was only that accursed Bootstrap who they still needed, who thought himself so clever as to doom them all because of his own guilt and self loathing over leaving his family and the mutiny against Sparrow. All the fool did was give his wife and girl-child a head start to flee, a long game of tag that in the end proved fruitless for Bootstrap, with Barbossa still holding the prize in the end.

_‘And what a pleasing prize she is,’_ He thought, wondering how that brooding father of hers could produce something even half as pretty as her. Of course he remembered her mother had been a looker from the one time he’d met her, and had a similar shade of reddish hair. Miss Turner also seemed to have inherited her mother’s endearment for unimposing gentlemen who seem to let their ladies slip through their fingers. He’d seen how the that slip of a boy, her step-brother, had looked at her and she at him. He’d caught the quick kiss she’d given the lad on the lips as she implored him to leave with her sisters, seen the unsightly desperation in the boy as he clutched her to him like a small child would his mother. He remembered sneering at the boy’s weakness and ordering the dingy to be lowered.

“The men are preparing for the storm, if we catch it early we should still make good time even if we have to sail around it. The witch was right,” Bo’ sun was reluctant to give the girl credit, glaring down at her as she took another bite from her apple as she dully nodded at whatever Ragetti was telling her. “She has good eyes.”

Barbossa nodded, “Of course; she has her father’s eyes after all.”

____________________________________________

At first light Will and Elizabeth rowed back to docks of Tortuga. Since Jack wasn’t on the ship they thought it perfectly acceptable for Elizabeth to take the captains cabin while Will went down below to where the crew would normally hang their hammocks. By this time tomorrow they’d be hopefully out in the open ocean and on their way to rescue Flora. But an uneasy feeling lodged itself inside Will’s chest most of the night as he tried to work out what Jack’s angle was. In the span of one afternoon not only had Jack told him his father was a pirate, leaving his children and mother for months at a time to commit treasonous acts against the crown like some common thief, but that Jack may have other intention for Will once they caught up to the _Black Pearl_.

Elizabeth had guessed it seemed to have something to do with acquiring the _Black Pearl_ itself, and that somehow he and Flora were the leverage to get it. Their father’s nickname, Bootstrap, seemed to be known even to Gibbs, and he wondered how his father fit into all of this. He tried to sleep but found himself restless, and when snippets of slumber took him he found they contained nightmares.

In the dreams he would find himself back on the doomed _Princess_ just moments before the explosion rocked the ship. The captain took dinner quite earlier than the rest of the crew so Will had been tasked with going down to the galley to fetch a bowl of whatever the cook had been preparing. He had passed his mother on the way, who was going to grab more onions from the hold for the cook, Mr. Marley, who for a man surrounded by food was a rather gaunt looking with wild, white hair.

Flora had been there with Mr. Marley trying to peel potatoes but was going a little too slow for the man’s liking, so when the captain’s bowl was ready he sent both the twins out to give him some peace. When they emerged on deck the fog that had been merely surrounding the boat earlier now engulfed the deck entirely. Will clutched the dinner bowl when he and Flora had twice almost run into another crew member because they could not see more than four feet in front of them. They decided to follow the railing and that’s how they came upon Ramsay and another sailor, who had a similar idea as to how to keep grounded until the fog passed. Flora decided to sit on a barrel next to her step-father while Will continued to the captain’s cabin. Once inside he found Jonathon there as well, having just delivered a message to the captain, and the man then sent them both away with a warning to be careful in the fog.

The boys decided to lean over the edge of the railing and try to look into the water. When they could only make out the tiniest hints of ripples they decided to spit over the edge to see if they could hear it hit the water. They couldn’t, and by the way their saliva traveled they could also tell there wasn’t any wind. Suddenly the ship rocked with a resounding boom, and Will clutched to the railing as the ship tilted. He and Jonathon could hear men shouting to ask what had happened and they heard the captain’s door opening and his footsteps running out onto the deck to demand a status report.

What happened next was always a blur, but Will described the following explosion like a being punched in the back by a red, hot ball and suddenly being airborne. Jonathon had tilted over the side of the railing after him as debris fell all around them, some part of the separated hull slamming into the back of Will’s head and pushing him under the water. He didn’t know which way was up and in his panic began inhaling water as he struggled to the surface. When he finally emerged his hand had brushed over a sheet of floating debris and he clung to it. He heard frantic splashing near him and could make out Jonathon bobbing up and down, and Will reached out to grab at his arm. Both boys carefully climbed onto the debris, trying to call out for anyone to help. Will remembered the throbbing pain in the back of his head and his blurring vision as the wreckage of the ship starting getting smaller as they drifted away.

But this time the dream changed, instead of suddenly being on the _Dauntless_ with his family safe and Elizabeth watching over him, he was on the deck of a dark ship. It was nighttime and dead quiet, with not a soul about, and he was his proper age instead of a boy. He took a few steps toward the mast, trying to find signs of anyone. But the shadows seemed to reach out from the edges and take over the whole ship, staining it black, despite the moonlight creeping in through the torn, black sails.

The soft sound of a woman sobbing reached him, and he looked at the railing to see a figure with long hair and dressed in a ghostly white gown facing away from him. For a split second he thought it was his mother, but when she turned to look at him he saw it was Flora. She had tears trailing down her cheeks, and her eyes closed as she moaned, “You weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?”

He stepped toward her, reaching his hand out, “I’m sorry, Flo. Come with me now. Let’s get you home.”

She didn’t seem to have heard him, “Why didn’t you come for me? You were off playing hero in town but we needed you. **_I_** needed you.”

Tears started to form in his own eyes, the guilt eating at him as he looked down shamefully. “I know; I should have gone straight to the manor. I thought you were all safe.”

“You’re not a hero,” Flora’s voice seemed to harden, and when he looked up she was fully facing him. But her posture was off, hunched in a way that made her seem stiff, like her muscles and bone were working against her as she took a step toward. When next she spoke her voice seemed to overlap with another’s, a man by the sound of it. “You’re no hero, but I know what you are.”

A chill went up Will’s spin as she smiled horrifically at him, her mouth suddenly crooked and wide and her once beautiful blue eyes turning completely black. Her arms bent at unnatural stiff angles and her fingers seemed longer a curled this way and that. He stepped back and tripped over something behind him, and when he scrambled to get back up it appeared to be a wooden eye that caused his fall. And Flora was gone.

But when he turned to look behind him he saw her, at least what was left of her, and he jumped back in horror. Her long red hair was matted and tangled, attached by threads to a rotting skull that still still possessed its eyes to glare at him. Her nightgown was now grey from time and hung off her her bony frame. The bone of her jaw seemed to come unhinged as she suddenly shrieked at him.

“You’re a pirate! YOU’RE A DEAD MAN WALKING!!!”

And then she let out the most horrific screech, an animal like sound no human should be able to make. It hurt his ears so much he covered them, screaming along with her.

He woke up on the floor of the crew quarters, having thrown himself out the hammock and landed with a thud on his back. The sudden urge to gag followed and he quickly ran up to the deck to empty his stomach over the side. After he’d calmed down he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, trying to ignore the sweat and tears he discarded as well. The entire day suddenly seemed to catch up with him as he looked toward Tortuga, the lights still on and glaring at him with its bustles and sin. His step-brother was somewhere in that port with a lunatic of a pirate, he and the woman he loved were on a stolen ship, his twin sister in the clutches of blood thirsty pirates who were doing Lord knows what to her, and his step-father had been murdered.

That combined with the betrayal he felt toward his long-dead father, and the uncertainty of the future ahead of them left him to wallow in sadness. He would allow it here on the privacy of the deck, his shame to surface and his tears to escape him. Because when the sun rose in a few hours he needed to be on his guard and more importantly he needed to be brave for the others. Jonathon and Elizabeth were counting on him, and since he couldn’t be there for them when they had been kidnapped from the manor, he would do everything he could to keep them safe until they got Flora back.

He’d fallen asleep on a pile of rope by the mast, not having the nerve to return below deck. Under the stars he felt safer, where he could see the sky and naively hope his sister could see them as well.

When he and Elizabeth made it the dock and tied up rowboat, they saw a few men of varying ages and races already gathered. The pair skittered past them, not sure if they were the assemblage Gibbs had brought and decided to walk toward the dock met the land. In the early morning hours Tortuga was just settling down, and they could spot a few drunks passed out near entrance ways and painted ladies bidding each other a good sleep after a hard night’s work with their gentlemen callers.

Behind a line of these women crossing the dirt road appeared Jack and Jonathon. They were carrying a crate between them and Will was relieved to see that Jonathon appeared unharmed, though from the bags under his step-brother’s eyes he looked exhausted.

“Ah, good. You survived the night,” Jack jest as they got closer, which was ironic considering Will and Elizabeth thought Jonathon should be asked about his fairing in Tortuga. “Of course you show up after all the work’s done, this be the last crate. Our potential crew, courtesy of Mr. Gibbs, brought the rest.”

Will and Elizabeth turned to look back toward the dock at the ragtag assembly of men, Will asked, “He really found an entire crew? Are they trustworthy?”

Jack barked in laughter as he dropped his half of the crate, causing Jonathon to fall forward as the weight of the other side took him down, “They’re pirates, of course they’re not trustworthy. Help young Jono and carry that other end,” Jack indicated to Will to take up Jack’s previous chore, which he did. Jack walked ahead and the boys and Elizabeth followed. “Don’t expect much when it comes to pirates, children. Only expect them to take orders and they in turn only expect you to keep them alive to the best of your ability.”

They made it to the dock and the boys quickly put the crate down, Jack going to greet Gibbs who had just joined them with what looked like two more last-minute recruits. Elizabeth followed next to them and mouthed at Jonathon _‘Jono?’_. The boy shrugged and then proceeded to stretch out the kinks in his shoulders before muttering, “It’s better than what he calls Will.”

“What does he call Will?” Elizabeth asked.

“Whelp.”

Overhearing them, Will just rolled his eyes. What did he care what Jack called him when they were away from each other’s company? The pirate could call him any name in the book as long he kept his end of the bargain to help them rescue Flora, and then Will had to remind himself that the opinion of a pirate on the subject of Will’s character should not upset him at all. They followed Jack and Gibbs down to the end of the dock where Gibbs yelled, “Assemble for Captain’s inspection!”

All of them, and there were likely less than a dozen men all together, quickly scrambled to attention and stood straight as Jack, Gibbs and the youngsters from Port Royal took them all in. When Will and Elizabeth had passed them earlier they had not seemed like much, and seeing them up close didn’t add much their initial first impression.

“Feast your eyes, Captain. All of them faithful hands before the mast. Every man worth his salt,” Gibbs led them down the line of recruits, men of all ages and creeds. Some looked worse for wear, some not completely sober, and one man’s height barely reached Jack’s waist. “And crazy to boot.”

“So this is your able bodied crew?” Will asked skeptically. But Jack remained unruffled, taking them all in. He stepped up to a bearded old man with a bright blue and yellow parrot on his shoulder.

“You, sailor!” Jack addressed the man with a raised voice.

“Cotton, sir.” Gibbs offered.

“Mr. Cotton,” Jack addressed him, “Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?” But Mr. Cotton said nothing, looking over to Gibbs for some sort of assistance, causing Jack to raise his voice louder, “Mr. Cotton! Answer, man!”

“He’s a mute, sir,” Gibbs leaned in, “Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one’s yet figured how.” Mr. Cotton opened his mouth, wiggling the shortened pink trunk that was once part of his tongue at them as proof. Jack winced and stuck his own tongue out to reassure it was still there, while Will squinted in morbid fascination. Jonathon and Elizabeth forgot all manners and gaped at the old salt. Still needing an answer and honestly curious, Jack addressed the parrot.

“Mr. Cotton’s parrot, same question!”

The creature gave a loud squawk, “Wind in the sails. Wind in the sails.”

When the parrot offered nothing more, Jack and the others stared in confusion before Gibbs again came to the rescue, “Mostly we figured that means ‘yes’.”

“Of course it does,” Jack seemed pleased and turned to Will, “Satisfied?”

“Well, you’ve proven they’re mad,” Will answered.

Jonathon shrugged, “Maybe madness is just what we need.”

Before Jack could comment a higher, more feminine voice called from the end of the line, “And what’s the benefit for us?”

The five of them whipped their heads toward the person, who had their head covered with a wide brimmed hat similar to Jonathon’s, and Jack slowly made his way to them. Elizabeth walked quicker than the boys, actually eager to see if another female would be coming aboard. But Jack seemed to recognize the voice as he peered underneath the hat rather reluctantly before removing it, revealing a dark-skinned woman. Longer black hair came tumbling down from the hat, semi covered by a bandana.

“Anamaria,” Jack recognized her, and she him because before they knew it she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

“I suppose you didn’t deserve that one either?” Elizabeth mockingly asked.

“No that one I deserved,” Jack said and Anamaria nodded vigorously in agreement.

“You stole my boat!” She accused of him.

“Actually—” Jack was cut off by Anamaria slapping him again, causing Elizabeth to laugh. Jack recovered and changed his wording, “ _Borrowed_ , borrowed without permission. But with every intention of bringing it back to you.”

“But you _didn’t_!”

Pausing, Jack thought of a way to placate her anger, “You’ll get another one.” And Anamaria raised her hand at him again, causing him to flinch back, but she only pointed at him threateningly.

“I will!”

“You’ll get a better one,” Will chipped in, and Jack also raced to appease her, agreeing with him.

“A better one.”

“That one,” Will pointed to sea.

“What one?” Jack asked quickly seeing Anamaria and the entire crew turn to look in that direction of the _Interceptor_. Jack hissed at Will, _“That one?”_ When the whelp only nodded Jack realized he had no choice and turned back to Anamaria and smiled, “Aye, that one. What say you?”

“Aye!” Anamaria shouted, and the rest of crew responded in a chorus of enthusiastic “aye’s” with her. The venture now securely underway, the crew made their way down the dock to start getting the few crates of supplies to take to the _Interceptor_. Anamaria snatched her hate back from Jack before joining them, giving him a glare. Elizabeth liked her already.

“No, no, no,” Gibbs wearily objected, “It’s frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard, sir. We’re already pushing it with Miss Elizabeth but to add two to the mix could reign down something fierce on us.”

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed Mr. Gibbs,” Elizabeth crossed her arms in disapproval, “And what of Flora? Soon it will be three women aboard once we have her back with us.”

“Aye but she’ll be a passenger, not crew. It’ll be a bit different,” Gibbs’s logic however didn’t affect Jack’s decision.

In fact, their captain looked a bit distracted, staring off into the eastern sky warily as he squinted at something far away. “Not true, Mr. Gibbs. Flora will have shifts in the galley once she’d properly retrieved. I’ve come to learn from young Jono here that she’s quite adept in the kitchen. And besides,” He cast one more weary look toward the sky, “It’ll be far worse not to have them.” Elizabeth had actually been impressed at Jack’s unperturbed attitude towards women being on his crew, even in the face of his first mate’s objections.

Turning to check on the progress of his new crew and begin giving orders, Gibbs and the others squinted in the direction of the clear sky Jack had been so concerned about. They couldn’t see anything right away, and found they quickly had to give up when they feared the crew would leave without them. Jonathon threw some coiled rope over his shoulder and picked up a basket filled with packages and cast one more eye back to the east, just making out the withered and thin clouds peaking out from over the jungle of Tortuga.

“Oh,” Jonathon saw it now, “Storm’s brewing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the theme of this chapter is the approaching storm, both figuratively and literally. There's also some hints that Flora and Will share a very special connection as twins are sometimes thought to have, with Will's dream not only being a manifestation of his guilt but also seemingly a link to Flora's exposure to the cursed crew that very night. 
> 
> Also I'm taking some liberties with the songs Flora sings, just because there is very little written record of some songs that far back, but that doesn't mean a version of them did not exist back then. But the songs anyone sings will not be modern and I'm trying to keep them at the latest somewhere in the 1800s, but again they will not be perfectly lined up dates.
> 
> Also I just want to point this out now so there is no doubt going forward, Flora is NOT going to be romantically paired with Barbossa nor is there going to be a Stockholm Syndrome situation. Flora is beginning to see a hidden humanity in the cursed crew but she herself says she resents seeing it. Her future is uncertain and she's been given hints she may be alive or murdered in the end, and she is merely using her survival instinct at this point. Many victims of kidnapping talk about how they try to humanize themselves to their captives to make it harder for them to want to hurt them. So she is trying to make herself useful by willing to be given tasks (besides singing) and giving away little hints about herself (like her alcoholic drink choice being whiskey).
> 
> Flora's reluctance to sing is very much my own rooted hatred of it when I was a child. I was a talkative and animated kid but the moment my mom wanted me to recite something I'd learned or to sing for somebody I hated it and wanted to cry. But I grew up to be a theater kid and enjoy karaoke so clearly I outgrew it


	15. I Love Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon and Flora each have conversations about one another with their temporary 'superiors'.
> 
> TW for mentions of possible sexual assault

The storm had rolled in on the _Interceptor_ by late afternoon, the dark clouds taking over the sky already heavy with the rain it was about to unleash upon them. The wind chilled some before picking up and Jonathon was forced to leave his hat below deck less he loose it. It had been the wide brimmed one he’ worn when out working in the gardens of the manor, meant for keeping the sun out more than seafaring. It felt like they had watched the storm follow them all day, but within minutes it had enveloped them. While helping with the crew Will and Jonathon were able to speak about his night in Tortuga with Jack.

“He honestly did need to check in with some of his contacts, negotiate to get us some supplies,” Jonathon had told him, “But it only took a couple hours, the rest of the time he took me around Tortuga.”

“To do what?” Will asked.

Jonathon shrugged, “Showing it off. It seemed important to him that I like the place.”

“Well, you did seem a little too interested in the goings on while we were looking for Gibbs,” Will pointed out, feeling like he’d had to keep an eye on his step-brother most of the time to keep him from wandering off.

“Oh come off it, Will. It was a bloody sensory overload,” Jonathon argued, very tired of Will’s black and white attitude toward the world sometimes. “What did you think I was doing with Jack all night? I was people watching, it’s not like the moment you left he took me to a brothel or anything.”

“Well that’s good—” Will had started to say before Jonathon kept talking.

“—He left me outside the brothel when he went in.” Jonathon finished his sentence and Will gaped at him. He’d trusted the pirate to keep his step-brother out of trouble and he’d gone to hire a prostitute while leaving Jonathon to his own devices.

“I’ll bloody kill him,” Will said looking up at the helm to see Jack talking to Gibbs and Cotton. “And if you’re joking it’s not funny.”

“Hey, I’m fine,” Jonathon reassured him. He knew Will would react this way but he wasn’t sure if Jack would bring it up the future and figured it would be best heard from him personally. “We went to the brothel near the end of the night. Or morning, I suppose. I’m not sure.” Upon Will glaring at him, Jonathon got defensive. “I stayed outside the building, I swear. Sat on the porch with one of the older matrons and talked to her for a bit before Jack came out about an hour later. I learned a bit about Jack from her.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Oh loads,” Jonathon confirmed, “But I haven’t half a mind to believe most of it.”

He told Will about how the matron, or he supposed she was a Madame, had known Jack these past ten years. That from the stories some of her girls told her he had a reputation as an adventurer, swindler, and liar. “So he’s exactly the pirate Elizabeth and I read about,” Jonathon confirmed. “But not much is known of him before ten years ago, except at one point he was the captain of a great vessel but no one knows what happened to it. At that he goes into ventures half cocked but has more lives than a cat it seems. Also he’s crazy.”

Both boys looked up to see Jack swaggering across the quarterdeck, looking down at his broken compass while he walked. His kohl rimmed eyes squinted his at the direction it seemed to point at before he shook his head as if her were disagreeing with what it was telling him.

“We’re all going to die,” Will deadpanned.

While Will was convinced Jack was going to kill them with his crazy, Jonathon was sure it would be the storm to do them in. When the storm finally hit them it held nothing back, the wind blowing the ship from side to side and bringing the tips of the waves over the railing. Elizabeth had been banished below deck by Anamaria, who appreciated the posh girl’s willingness to learn about the running of a ship but warned her she would not be jumping into the ocean after her if she got swept off deck. It felt like hours while Will, Jonathon and the rest of the crew tried to keep the ship from tipping over with the waves. The sails were still catching the wind so they were moving with the storm, but the crew began to fear it would be the end of them.

They were fighting against the torrential rain and wind to tie down lines of rope when a particularly large wave crashed over the deck and swept the boys and Gibbs off their feet and against the opposite railing. Will grabbed onto Gibbs, who grasped onto Jonathon to haul him up as well. Will pulled down on a line and Gibbs secured it while Jonathon tried not to fall over again.

Through the rain dripping down his face Will yelled, “How can we sail to an island nobody can find with a compass that doesn’t work?”

“Aye, the compass doesn’t point north, bit we’re not trying to find north, are we?” Gibbs smiled despite the shivers going through him, his confidence in Jack reaching far but pragmatically he knew most sailors would weather the storm out before continuing further. He left Will to hold onto the railing, but Jonathon followed Gibbs up the stairs to the quarter deck where Jack was at the helm.

If Jonathon could describe what Jack looked like at that moment, he would almost describe it as scary. Not in a way that made Jonathon afraid of him, but more afraid of what Jack was capable of. He was completely at ease at the wheel, one hand grasping a handle and the other his compass. The tri-corn hat he sported was doing its job and catching the rain and seawater, discarding it in large droplets every time he turned his head. Jack looked down at the compass and gritted his teeth as he spun the wheel in the direction it determined he was to take.

Jonathon followed Gibbs up the stairs and watched the older man stumble onto the bittacle, which would normally hold the compass Jack had if he didn’t carry it with him at all times. The lad gripped the railing of the stairs when the wind threatened to toss him into Gibbs.

“We should drop canvas, sir,” Gibbs yelled over the wind.

But Jack put his back into keeping the wheel steady, fighting against the ocean as he bared his teeth, “She can hold a bit longer!”

“What’s in your head that’s put you in such a fine mood, Captain?” Gibbs asked, squinting through the rain.

And Jack grinned at the two of them, his mania giving way to something Jonathon couldn’t place, a determination the boy could only hope to attain even a fraction of. “We’re catching up.”

Gripping the railing tightly, Jonathon turned to squint at the bow of the ship, to the heading Jack was taking them to. He looked past the crew that was holding on for dear life, especially Marty the dwarf, who was swept up quite easily but kept a firm grip on the rope he clutched to. It was in that moment that the rain temporarily washed away any doubts Jon had about Jack, not in his motives mind you, but in his ability to see their mission through. The lad didn’t care anymore why the pirate was helping them, or what parts Will and Flora played in the grand scheme of Jack’s disposition. Jack was putting all he had into coaxing the ship closer to the _Black Pearl_ and thus closer to Flora. As long as he kept that end of the bargain Jonathon didn’t care if Jack revealed that along with Bill Turner being a pirate that Jon’s own mother was a runaway debutante. All he wanted was Flora back.

_‘We’re catching up,’_ Jonathon thought _, ‘We’re coming for you, Flora. Just like we promised, and I swear I’ll never leave your side again.’_

_____________________________________

She hated the bloody lot of them, Flora thought to herself as she rung out her hair. She had stayed out on the deck under the lazy (and one wooden) eyes of Pintel and Ragetti all afternoon, watching as the sky slowly turned grey and the dark clouds approached just like she knew they would. Though the shade was appreciated she knew it would only be a matter of time before the rain would come and she didn’t feel like getting drenched.

But why would she expect the pirates to allow her a kindness? When she’d felt the first few misty drops she had started to make her way back to the captain’s cabin but was intercepted halfway and told she was to remain on deck.

“Why?” She almost wailed, indicating around her, “It’s raining!”

“Exactly, witch!” Bo’ sun took her arm and led her back toward Pintel and Ragetti. “You bring the storm, you see it through.”

“I didn’t bring the storm,” She protested. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve never encountered a storm before I was brought aboard?”

Bo’ sun grunted as he pushed her into Pintel, who steadied her. She’d noticed the grip of the pirates was always cold, but with the rain their fingers felt clammy on her as well. She’d saw more pirates emerge from below deck to join them, most likely having finished making sure the cargo below was secured and now were ready to greet the storm should it turn harsh.

But it didn’t. Surprisingly they’d somehow outrun the worst of it, from what she could see further in the distance the waves had risen quite alarmingly. But the _Black Pearl_ merely rocked and the rain came down almost straight, like the wind had decided to leave the ghost ship alone. Of course the men couldn’t feel it, but she bloody well could. Her hair was loose and catching all of it, and suddenly she remembered her tartan skirt and how it was double layered over her nightdress. With an annoyed grunt she reached for the top layer of the skirt and brought it up over her head, shielding it for the time being, and still keeping her nightdress covered. The material was in no way waterproof and would eventually soak through but for now it did its job.

At least it did until it was yanked back off her head a couple minutes later by a bearded man in a cap named Twigg. She started to protest but he had some of her hair in his grip and turned her to look back out at the storm. His hand left her hair but he took a grip on both her shoulders, saying in a sickeningly excited tone, “Look at that. I haven’t felt rain on me head for near ten years, girl. But all that ends soon once we spill your blood,” She stiffened at his words, feeling his fingers tighten their grip on her, “I’ll be able to feel everything soon. Tell me, girl, what does the rain feel like?” He was looking up at the raindrops hitting them.

She tried to shrug him off but he kept a hold of her, and soon she noticed that several pirates were standing around them all looking up at the rain. They were gaping up at the sky like they were the tears of God, but these men had not known peace or blessing for years, only the hell they had condemned themselves to.

“It feels cold, wet and miserable,” She mumbled, starting to feel her hair stick to her cheek.

After a while Twigg was forced to let her go only because Bo’ sun called him over to help with a task. But she remained where she was because she knew if she tried to leave another pair of grubby hands would take his place and she’d had quite enough of being manhandled after her forced singing performance that morning. The sails had been dropped so they were mostly drifting at that point, and she wondered how long this delayed their journey to Isla de Muerta.

Pushing some of the hair out of her face she saw Barbossa was up on the quarter deck, one of the men keep the wheel steady behind him. He too was taking in the rain around him but held more of an air of dignity then the rest who gazed up like smitten turkeys. His face was hard and protected under his hat, and instead of looking up he gazed ahead. She had brought the outer layer of her tartan skirt back up and put it over her shoulders, hoping it wouldn’t be ripped off again, and caught Barbossa staring down at her with a smirk. She glared at him through wet strands of her hair but likely gave off no more feral intentions than a soaked kitten.

After a moment Barbossa nodded to someone behind her and she saw Pintel approach her. Surprisingly he was telling her to she could return to the cabin and walked with her to make sure she wasn’t stopped this time. “No point in having ya die of pneumonia before the journey ends,” He joked.

Before she entered she took advantage of the covering outside the doors started to ring out the bottom of her skirts as best she could, not wanting to trail the water inside. She was ringing out her hair next when she heard Ragetti, who had also joined them, sniggering, “Good thing you have a spare dress in the cabin. Best get changed then.”

She wanted to shoot right back at them she could make sure the peephole was covered but decided against it, just wanting to warm up inside. Instead she just glared at them as she finished ringing out her hair.

Once inside she shut the door and thought about the best way to go about this. In normal circumstances she would wait for the rain to stop and then dry her wet clothes outside, but she wouldn’t put it past one of the pirates to steal them. The long table where she had dined with Barbossa was mostly clear except for a plate of bread, hardtack, and bowl of apples. There was enough space for her to lay the long tartan out for it to dry, and if her thin nightdress was too damp she could hang it over a chair. Checking in deed to make sure the peephole was covered she unwrapped the tartan and spread it over the surface, putting the thistle pin on her shoulder for safe keeping. The arms and top of the nightdress were pretty damp and she was debating whether it would be worth removing to dry when a memory hit her with such force that she stopped breathing. Of the day her and her family were rescued from the sea, how they’d followed Mullroy into a tiny cabin where he’d set a sleeping Will down on a cot…..

_Flora kicked off her one remaining shoe and it went underneath the cot where her twin slept. He’d looked so pale but Jonathon and the Swann girl had assured her that he would be alright. Jonathon took off his vest and lay it out to dry while he wrung out his shirt, attempting to kick off his shoes at the same time._

_The governor’s daughter, Elizabeth, had followed them and told them she would help with whatever they needed. Flora thought her very sweet indeed. After Jonathon had gotten his shoes off Flora had attempted to loosen her dress so she could shrug it off. Elizabeth had yelped loud enough to cause Will to stir when Jonathon had come over to help her undress._

_“But you’re a lady. Gentlemen don’t help ladies get undressed,” Elizabeth had protested, the others not understanding her puzzlement._

_“They’re my family, the three of us share a bed,” Flora said. Even before Jonathon had officially become their step-brother he’d stayed overnight when their mother had minded him. And she and Will had almost never spent a night apart since they were born into the cradle. But Elizabeth was an only child and upper class, and while the concept fascinated her she nonetheless insisted Flora come with her to her room to change._

_“I’ve nothing to change into, milady. I was just going to set the dress on the chair and wait here for it to dry,” Flora explained._

_“Well then you must simply borrow one of my dresses, Flora, I insist. And I beg you please just call me Elizabeth.”_

_The girls went down the hall into the larger cabin Elizabeth shared with her father. Elizabeth’s area of the room was separated by a privacy curtain where a chest filled with her clothes was located. Elizabeth rifled through them before bringing out a rose-gold colored one and held it up to Flora’s frame. “I believe we are the same size, so this should do nicely. The color goes wonderfully with your hair.”_

_Elizabeth helped Flora get dressed. Unknown to the children at the time that this would be the first of three occasions Elizabeth would do so for Flora during their long friendship. The second time would be years later under scarily similar circumstances concerning a drenched Flora rescued onto a ship. The third would be on the day Flora got married._

_And later that night would be the first of countless times Flora ever shared a bed with Elizabeth, the girl having snuck Flora inside the cabin after Governor Swann had bid his daughter goodnight but he himself would be above deck for a while longer. She decided the two boys could share a bed and Elizabeth would share hers with Flora, wrapping her arms around the girl she’d helped rescue. Watching over her just as she promised her father she would._

Flora laughed despite of herself, cringing at how wet her hair currently was and how much of a mess her hair was that day they were rescued. She remembered the tears in her eyes as Ramsay had tried his best to brush it out, muttering about how her mother would kill him if she woke up and found her only daughter bald if he didn’t do this right. She’d laughed at that and then winced again as he’d run the comb through a particular tangled knot.

Blinking away the tears brought on by fond memories of her step-father, she decided that out of pure spite she would remain in her nightgown and forgo putting on the red dress until absolutely necessary. To distract herself she decided to go about organizing and cleaning the cabin since this was her designated space. Captain Barbossa had told her to be less vexing and keep out of the way so she would.

It was about an hour later when Barbossa walked in and found her sitting on the floor in front of his books stacked against the one wall. She had organized them into piles based on the language they were written, and the ones written in English were then put into their own subcategories based on if they were non-fiction or fictional. The few titles she recognized were placed on the top of those.

He did a double take and it would be one of the few times she ever saw him look taken off-guard. She supposed a girl in her nightdress rifling through his things and organizing them on the floor must not have what he was expecting. When she gave him an overview of her little system he regarded her with confusion before answering with a simple, “Hmph.”

He didn’t tell her stop so she took that as sign to continue what she doing, even under his watchful gaze. He seemed to be checking to make sure she organizing them the way she said she was because suddenly he reached over and took one from near the bottom of a pile near the end, proclaiming, “This be wrong,” When she looked at him with confusion he explained, “I’m assuming those few you stacked it with are written in Spanish?” She nodded. “Well this one be in Portuguese,” He handed it back to her as a way of declaring it her job to fix it. She scrutinized the words on the covers before looking back at him.

“They’re so similar, how did you know that?” She asked.

“I speak it.”

She looked surprised, “You speak Portuguese?”

He nodded, seemingly pleased he could astonish her in such a way. “Me father was Portuguese, hence why It allows me to understand Spanish as well. I can also speak some Cantonese and depending on who you ask me French isn’t that bad either.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve read or plan to read all these books?” She indicated to rather large pile before her.

He chuckled, put his hands behind his back. “Forget the sea of books you most likely saw wall to wall at the governors house you grew up in. High-ranking men like to surround themselves with knowledge and hope to soak it up without cracking a page, to collect items but never take the time to truly gaze upon them,” He reached out to the graze the top of her head, not caring that she tried to suppress her shudder. “You be on a pirate ship now. Rules and life are different here as I’m sure you’ve already learned.”

“I’ve learned there are absolutely no rules to speak of,” She glared at him from the floor.

“Oh that not be true at all. There are rules but few and simple,” He held up his hand to count the two rules on his fingers, “What men can do, and what they can’t do. Speaking of which I have a task for you.”

She went from intrigue to terror in a matter of seconds when Barbossa went about shrugging off his jacket and then going for the buttons on his waistcoat. She scrambled up and away from him and backed into the corner, seeing nowhere else to go. Why was he getting undressed? She saw no weapon she could use but was still clutching the Portuguese book in her hand and she wondered if she could beat him over the head with it.

He paused when she jumped away from him, and seeing the fearful looked in her eyes he laughed. “Your virtue be safe for now, Miss Turner. This be a task I’d ask any domestic servant of.” He took off his waistcoat and held it out to her.

She eyed it wearily, taking a step from the corner to reach out for the waistcoat. Barbossa said, “You say you be handy with a needle and thread? Well here be a chance to prove it. The pattern on that waistcoat hasn’t been mended for years and I find myself growing irksome of the fraying embroidery. And since I have in me possession a lady of skill,” He saw the glare on her face when he mentioned ‘possessing’ her and smirked, “I be figuring I would be a fool not to take advantage.”

The waistcoat was a nut-brown color, faded with time and decorated with light silver and yellow colored thread. Some of the threading was frayed and coming undone from the pattern while some had been eroded completely, especially in the area where his belt and holster went over his shoulder to carry his sword.

She sighed, “I’ll need a needle and thread.”

He nodded, “Ye shall have it. Though you’ll need to make due with white thread or whatever we have in a hauswife kit.”

Looking down at the waistcoat he watched her furrow her eyes as she inspected it, taking in the thread and design. In that moment it was like having Bootstrap back aboard for the little time Barbossa had sailed with him, seeing the girl work out the problem before her was like watching gears work behind her eyes. She perked up quickly, “Actually, if you have any clothing in your hold, better yet, tassels from curtains or rugs then I can pick those out and use it to substitute the thread color if you wish to keep it the same.”

Regarding her for a moment he wondered what else she could come up with if he gave her more tasks, but figured it be best not to push his luck. Her future was in his hands and he knew that she was aware of this. She was not begging or groveling and he begrudgingly respected that. He had plenty of time to make progress with the girl before they reached Isla de Muerta before he decided what to do with her.

“Ye say that nothing ye do here is for our pleasure yet ye go above and beyond for this menial task,” he squinted at her, trying to get her to admit to her motivations, “Why is that?”

But she merely shrugged, “Any task worth doing is worth doing right. There’s always a way.”

He pursed his lips, “Very well, then.” He picked his coat off the ground and walked to the doors, opening them and bellowing, “Mallot!”

The pirate came running in and Flora found herself backing into the corner again, hoping he didn’t notice her. Of course the younger pirate did see his captain’s waistcoat and jacket removed, and then upon seeing her in nothing but her nightdress drew some very salacious conclusions of his own. It did not seem far fetched that the captain would attempt something of the carnal nature with his captive, after all she had assumed just that a few minutes ago.

Ignoring her embarrassment, Barbossa ordered Mallot to inspect the hold for any thread, material, tassels and anything of the nature that could be used for sewing. Mallot nodded, shot a grin at her, and left to complete his task. Flora’s face absolutely burned knowing that he would tell every pirate on his way to the hold what he saw and resisted the urge to chuck the waistcoat at Barbossa when she realized the captain knew as well.

______________________________________

The storm had finally passed and though it was probably an hour until dawn Jonathon could not sleep anymore. Gibbs had told him and Will they could go rest a few hours but Jonathon had felt too restless to sleep properly. Finally, he decided to give up and go on deck to see if anything needed to be done, figuring it was better to be occupied. Emerging on deck he was surprised at how calm the ocean was now, the absence of stars confirming clouds still present but finally satisfied with the amount of rain they’d decided to gift the ship with. He saw Cotton at the wheel, his parrot on his shoulder, and knew even Jack had turned in for a few hours of sleep. He’d refused to leave the compass with anyone else and had given a vague heading to Cotton before retiring.

Nodding to the old man, Jonathon made his way to the bow of the ship. He wondered if he’d see the sun rise from ahead and realized he stupidly didn’t even know what direction they were going. Taking a seat on a barrel right at the very front of the ship, he leaned folded his arm and lay his chin down on them, taking in the sea. He felt himself dozing, relieved to finally have felt some peace with the white noise of the ocean and the wind, but found himself jerking awake when a particularly large dip brought some spray from the sea and right into his face.

He sat up and reached into his pocket habitually for a handkerchief but froze when he fished it out his pocket. It was Flora’s. The same one she’d produced and haphazardly wiped his face with before he went to the docks with Joanie, him tucking it into his pocket thinking he would return it later. Had that all really happened only two nights before? Meeting Jack Sparrow at the docks, the attack on Port Royal, his father being shot, Flora being taken?

He gripped the handkerchief and leaned forward, glad the only other person on deck was a man who couldn’t speak and parrot that spoke only nonsense. Looking down at the handkerchief he saw it was one of Flora’s older ones, because her initials in one corner were done with straight lines. The ‘FT’ were connected with one long line in the top. Nowadays she could loop and curve much better with practice and could embroider just as good as the seamstress in town, at least Jonathon thought so. While letters had taken longer she had always been able to stitch tiny detailed flowers, and this one had three circular blue flowers in each corner.

His throat became choked up when a terrible thought entered his head of them being too late to rescue Flora. Would this be the only thing he would have left of her? His eyes blurred with tears as he looked at the bowsprit leaning out over the water, remembering the last time he’d been this close to one, all those years ago on the _Dauntless_.

_It had been four days since they were fished from the sea and by the end of the week they’d be in Jamaica. His step-mother was already able to leave her sickbed though his father forbid it, begging her to rest since she was not required to work for their keep. And since his father spent a lot of time making sure his injured new wife was healing that meant the children got to explore the ship along with Elizabeth as their guide._

_It was dawn and there were only a few sailors out and about, so he had gotten out of bed early and tried not to wake Will or Flora as he did. Flora was back to bunking with them after Governor Swann had stumbled upon her and Elizabeth curled up and asleep one morning in his quarters. He’d gone to rouse Elizabeth for the day and his yelp could be heard from above deck. Apparently he was quite scandalized when he’d almost kissed Flora on the forehead thinking it was Elizabeth._

_But today Jonathon was determined to climb the bowsprit and look over the waves._

_Of course Flora, who had awoken with him, was begging him not to. “We’ll be in so much trouble, Jon. Please come back.”_

_He’d already started climbing, scooting his way out at first and then holding on like a monkey. He looked back at her, “I’ll be fine, Flo. Just a little farther, and look there’s a net down there so I won’t even hit the water if I fall.”_

_But even the presence of the net did not make her feel better. “Please don’t.” She wined._

_He sighed and looked back at her again, “I bet if you came out here as well we wouldn’t get in much trouble. You’re the favorite after all,” He teased her._

_Her little face scowled at him, hating when he tried that on her, “I am not!”_

_“Are too!” He laughed, “You never get in much trouble as me.”_

_“Because I’m not as naughty as you,” She snapped back, “Oh, Jon, be careful.” He was beginning to turn around so he was facing her, still straddling the bowsprit, but the movement made her nervous. “You don’t have to turn around to climb down, just slide back.”_

_“I’m not coming down; I’m just tired of looking over my shoulder. Now I can talk to you better.”_

_“If you want to talk to me better than you can just come down!” she said._

_He reached both arms out to her, “Or you can come up here with me.”_

_She took a step back, “No!” He always tried to get her involved in something he knew could earn him a hiding one day, thinking that if Flora was with him than he wouldn’t be in much trouble. She hated that most of the time it turned out to be true, and of course everything Jonathon did was usually quite fun, and he made sitting out over the sea so easy looking. She finally relented a little bit, “I’ll come to edge, that’s it.”_

_He grinned as she stepped up, gathered her skirt up as much as she could and sat on the edge, gripping the base of the bowsprit between her knees, “See, Flo. It’s not so scary, it reminds me of climbing a tree.”_

_“I suppose,” She mumbled, looking down over the waves hitting the hull. “isn’t it strange to think we were in this very water floating on debris just a few days ago? Almost makes me never want to be on a boat again after this.” That was the proper response to something as traumatic as surviving a sinking ship, but Jonathon could hear no conviction in her voice and disagreed._

_“Not me. I think I would like to go on a boat again someday, and we might if can find one to North Carolina,” Jonathon had never met these relatives of his in the American colonies, and wondered if they’d be nice. “Of course we may stay in Jamaica. Where would you rather go, Flo?”_

_She shrugged, “Don’t know, never been to either. But I hear the Caribbean has nice sunny weather all year round.”_

_“But I hear America has lions and bears,” Jonathon pointed out, trying remember if he’d heard read it in a book. “And what about after that, when we’re grown up? Where would we visit after that?”_

_They each named places around the world they’d like to go next. Flora wanted to go to France and Scotland, and Jonathon wanted to go to Africa and India. Flora wanted to see the pretty French buildings and then the Isle of Skye where fairies and giants supposedly lived. And Jonathon wanted to see cannibals and all the wild animals to see if he could tame one as a pet. When Jonathon decided he was tired of his view consisting of the ship he turned around again, Flora insisting he could sit with his back to her chest so they could both look out over the ocean. Flora had giggled, “This is just like riding two on a horse.”_

_“Maybe a seahorse,” Jonathon shifted a bit, “Something is digging into my back.”_

_“Oh, I forgot I had an apple in my apron. Want to share it?”_

_“Bless you, yes!”_

_The sun was halfway peaking over horizon and the sky was a brilliant pink where it met the sea. The two children passed the apple back and forth, each taking a bite and talking with their mouth full about the future that awaited them and the one that almost befell them. If Elizabeth hadn’t spotted them in the water where would they have ended up floating to? Jonathon was sure they’d have floated to an uncharted island and would have had to have made a home there until they were rescued._

_“We’d have been proper castaways and live on fish and build huts out of sticks,” Jonathon informed her, passing the mostly eaten apple back to her._

_“And I would swim with dolphins and have a pet crab named Raoul,” Flora insisted, making Jonathon laugh, before she handed the last of the apple back to him, “One good bite left before the core and seeds.” After taking a final bite he tossed it far enough that the core went over the net and into the sea. “Maybe that will actually attract a dolphin to the ship. I thought I’d see loads of them by now but I’ve yet to see a single one since leaving England.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, and now had both free hands wrapped around his middle. He settled his hands above hers and relaxed against her, just enjoying watching the sunrise and not worrying about the future this shipping was sailing them to._

_Of course they’d forgotten with the sunrise came the waking of more of the crew, which meant it was only a matter of time before they were discovered by a sailor, who also just so happened to be Mr. Gibbs. The two children sitting on the bowsprit over the water had given him such a fright when he’d gone to take a sip from his flask that he’d choked and sputtered. He in turn scared the daylights out of them when he rushed over and grabbed Flora by the back of of her dress and dragged both of them off, carrying one child under each arm like a flour sack quickly back toward the fore mast._

_“A bloody heart-attack you two will give me. What goes on in those heads of yours, what the bloody—”_

“—hell you doing up this early, boy?”

Jonathon turned his head to see Mr. Gibbs, now a little grayer and otherwise heart-attack free, standing behind him. Gibbs had been there for a quite a while and assumed the lad had fallen asleep but upon getting closer it looked more like he was praying. Jonathon straightened up a bit but otherwise remained where he was and Gibbs came to stand next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Jonathan nodded, “What about you?”

“Came to relieve Cotton, been here a while now.”

“Oh, that explains the lack of riveting conversation,” Jonathon deadpanned and actually caused Gibbs to laugh. The older man saw something clutched in the boy’s hand, and upon closer inspection saw it was a piece of material. Jonathon saw him looking at it and spread the material it out, “It’s Flora’s.”

“Hoped as much,” Gibbs took note of the embroidery along the corners, “Not many a sailor would be caught dead with a hanky of that delicate nature”

“She embroidered it herself, you know,” Jonathon said, suddenly glad he had something of a positive note to talk about concerning Flora, “It was going to be discarded with some scraps, but Flora rescued it from the pile and spent days working on it. I think she was only fourteen at the time. She was always doing things like that; taking something plain and mundane and turning it into something beautiful.”

Gibbs nodded, having got a rundown from Jack about the kindling of romance between Jonathon and Flora. Apparently in Tortuga the boy hadn’t shut up about her, and Jack had asked him what he remembered of the youngsters from his time with them on the _Dauntless_ all those years ago. Gibbs had told Jack of the rescue at sea and the following week where Jonathon was often following him around, Will’s habit of popping up out of nowhere, and Elizabeth taking a liking to him for some reason and constantly asking for pirate stories. He’d even told Jack about them demanding he teach them the words to _‘Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum’_ and when he refused to repeat it again he’d later found the four of them chanting made-up lyrics that were probably more child friendly. And of course he spoke to Jack about what he remembered of Flora and decided to share it with Jonathon as well, deciding the lad was in desperate need of someone having good memories of the girl

“Aye, I remember. I seem to recall when I had to clean dirty surfaces I’d often find her drawing little designs into the dust with her finger before I had to wash it off. Seemed to annoy her something fierce.” He remembered the girl pouting whenever he’d had to wash away the little flowers she’d drawn in the dirt along the walls of the railing, and he had to placate her saying soon she would have real flowers in Port Royal. It seemed the foliage she had been named for had become her signature piece based on the flowers he now saw on the handkerchief.

Jonathon smiled, “She liked you well enough. We all did. Still do”

“Yes, why was that exactly?” He leaned his forearms to rest on the rail next to Jonathon. “I’ve never been one to have a good temperament with children yet every time I turned around there one of you were following after me and asking about something.” He shook his head and chuckled, “A whole ship full of sailors and it always seemed to be me.”

At that Jonathon snorted, “Oh, no. We most definitely annoyed quite a few of the other marines, you just seemed to be our favorite,” Jonathon shrugged, “You didn’t seem that mean to us. Besides, it was probably the fact that you didn’t treat us like silly kids that made us like you. Also didn’t help your case that if we asked you about something the adults didn’t want to tell us you actually answered honestly.”

“World is cruel and hard,” Gibbs shrugged, looking ahead at the dark sea. “Sooner children learn that the better. But it’s probably people like Flora that bring a shine o’ light to it once in a while, even to old sea dogs like me.” He took a swig from his flask and the offered it to Jonathon, who carefully smelled it before trying a sip and shuddering. “Not a rum drinker then?”

Shaking his head, Jonathon felt the rum burn for a moment before he felt it safe enough to speak. “No, we only had whiskey in our house and only on special occasions.”

“Praise be the Scots for their whiskey,” Gibbs said to the heavens above before chuckling at the handkerchief still in Jonathon’s hands, “So she give that to you, then?”

“I was getting ready to go into town and had dirt on my cheek; she wiped it off and I forgot to give it back,” Jonathon took a deep breath, not wanting to give away he had been crying earlier. “But then that night the pirates came and—” He had to pause, hating the memory of that night on the deck. “I had her Gibbs, I had her in my arms and they said we could go home. Barbossa had the medallion and he said we could go; I was putting her in the dingy when he pulled her right out of my arms. He held a sword to her throat and made us all leave without her.”

The boy grew quiet, looking straight ahead and trying not to shake. Gibbs prayed to whoever was listening that the lad wouldn’t cry, not having a clue what to do if he should. Instead he Jonathon leaned his forehead in one hand and stared ahead.

“If I ask you something Mr. Gibbs, will you promise to still be as honest as you can, even if the truth is cruel?” Jonathon asked softly.

“Aye, lad.” Gibbs answered, wondering if the boy was going to ask about Bootstrap.

“I don’t want to give up hope, but I’ve heard stories here and there about the _Black Pearl_ and I suspect you and Jack certainly know more, so I’ll ask you,” He finally looked up and locked eyes with Gibbs. “What are the odds of us reaching the _Black Pearl_ in time for us to get Flora back alive? And if she is alive what should I expect to have happened in that time?”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at him, frankly taken aback that the boy had the nerve to ask. Women taken hostage on the sea were usually kidnapped for ransoming of some kind, but that normally applied to women like Elizabeth with fathers who could pay it. To the average person Flora was a maid, recently orphaned, with no dowry or inheritance to her name. But Gibbs and Jack were more privy to the reasoning behind Barbossa’s actions and it could offer some comfort to the boy.

“To the first I can say that the _Black Pearl_ usually leaves no survivors, so the fact that they left port with Miss Flora alive last you saw her is good, means they don’t plan on killing her yet. You see, there be rumors that Barbossa and his crew be under a curse of some kind,” Jonathon looked up at this, furrowing his brows. Gibbs knew it safe to regale Jonathon with the tale because it was circulated in taverns and houses of ill repute when sailors decided to scare one another. “A curse that leaves them in a state of being unable to die, immortal as such. But it’s at a grave price, boy.”

Gibbs leaned closer to Jonathon and lowered his voice, reminding the both of them when he was a child and listening to a tale of sea monsters. Except these monsters were very real. “The stories say they took medallions from a cursed chest and cannot break the curse until all the medallions are returned. Until then they cannot die but in a way they do not live as well. They cannot partake in the joys of eating, drinking, or feeling in general.”

Jonathon remembered the medallion around Flora’s neck, the one Barbossa had been searching for. The one left to her and her family after the death of William Turner, who has every recently been revealed to be a pirate. Had he crossed paths with Barbossa and his crew and gotten a hold of the medallion piece they’d coveted for so long?

“So Barbossa and his men believe they are under a curse?” Jonathon asked and Gibbs nodded. “And returning the medallion will free them from it? That sounds absolutely crazy.”

“Aye, it does,” Gibbs admitted, “But even in this age of discovery there still be places uncharted on the map and in those places are dark and mysterious things man was not meant to trifle with,” And then Gibbs grinned, “If you believe in such things, that is.”

But something else was eating at Jonathon, “Well, if all they needed was the medallion then why take Flora?”

“Well you see, rumor has it that it’s not only the medallions that need to be returned, but a repayment in blood as well,” Gibbs revealed, and the poor boy lost more color in his already naturally pale face. “That may be what they’ve taken Flora for.”

“They’re going to kill her?” He shot up, feeling like he would be sick.

“Easy, boy,” Gibbs pulled him back down to sit. “We don’t know that, but we do know that they believe they are under a curse which they need her to break and they need Flora _, alive_ , to do it. On the other concerns,” He paused, really not wanting to use the word ‘rape’ if he could avoid it. “More than likely they won’t, since the curse apparently deprives them of feeling all earthly pleasures.”

He could see some of the anxiety leave the boy as his chest deflated with a breath of relief. Pursing his lips, Jonathon nodded and turned his head to think about what Gibbs had told him, still clutching the handkerchief in his hand. “It wouldn’t have mattered if they did, hurt her like that, I mean. It wouldn’t be her fault. I just want her back.”

“We’ll get her back, boy.”

“I love her.”

He’d said it so softly and simply that Gibbs almost hadn’t heard him. Jonathon had said it to himself and in his head every day for years, a little mantra when he was alone with his thoughts. He thought it when he wished she was with him instead of doing laundry, when he caught her admiring herself in Elizabeth’s vanity mirror, and whenever she took his arm in town. Had he ever actually told her that?

The day she kissed him on her birthday after he gave her the shell necklace they’d never spoken of it. Though it was hard to explain, it was like suddenly everything made sense between them and words were not needed. They had been inseparable as children, the best of friends as they got older, and now it was like the pieces were finally fitting together. His father had said they were too young to be married at the time but Jonathon knew even if his father forbade it he would have been happy just to see her every day between chores. Flora’s very presence made him feel as if she were a part of him, which explained why her absence and the circumstances of it lurched at him as if his guts had been ripped out.

He had never even properly asked her to marry him. After the first kiss, and quite a few others afterward, she’d said they had to tell his father before someone else did. Getting married was always something to be considered once he’d decided what he wanted to do as a career, either with the navy or in the governor’s house. And once those hurtles had been mastered and after a few years then it was assumed she could be his wife. It was always something to look forward to after all these other little battles were fought, his worthiness to be proven in the eyes of his father. But now his father was dead, his ambitions for the navy were probably done for after stealing one of their ships, and Flora was in the hands of pirates.

“It’s obvious you love her,” Gibbs said, drawing Jonathon back to the conversation at hand.

“I can’t remember the last I actually told her that.” Jonathon lamented.

“Well then,” Gibbs thought about it, seeing the first hints of sunrise on the horizon, “Tell her the moment you see her again.”

______________________________________

“Are you _sure_ he won’t bite me?” Flora asked again of Captain Barbossa, who was sitting across from her. The captain sighed as he watched her hunch over a bit and adjust her posture while trying not to miss a stitch.

“He’s got no reason to bite ya unless you give him one. Just leave him be,” Barbossa said.

It was evening now and Flora was once again in the red dress. She’d had no choice in the matter as her tartan took longer to dry then she’d hoped and had only just been cleared off the table and folded on the bed. She had not wanted Barbossa touching it or his little monkey making it dirty. The little creature had been happy on his perch while Flora did her needlework and Barbossa read from one the books he had snatched from the newly organized pile. That had lasted maybe only ten minutes and the monkey then decided to jump onto the table, taking both humans by surprise as he went to Flora and jumped onto her shoulder. She had waited for him to launch off her again as he had earlier that morning, maybe go onto the shelf and continue his jaunt around the room but the monkey had decided he was quite happy making a nest of sorts in her loose hair.

She had looked to the captain who eyed his pet as it took strands of her reddish locks, finally dry from the rain, and began burrowing. The feel of its little body and tiny, human-like hands grasping at her hair and neck was strange and she waited to see of Barbossa would call the creature back to him. He however seemed to content to letting the monkey explore.

“Ya must have a way with dumb creatures, Miss. It’s been ages since Jack took to someone so easily,” The monkey, whose name was Jack apparently, looked up briefly at hearing his name before curling his tale around the front of her neck and continuing to hold onto her hair. Flora thought the monkey probably had not interacted with a living human outside the crew for quite some time. “Did you have many pets back in Port Royal?”

Knotting the golden threads as she finished one of the patterns on the vest, she shook her head. Mallot had managed to find a tassel of a golden color and brought it back to cabin, along with another crew member who had tried to get a peak at her in her chemise. She had picked the tassel apart and cut some strands with her teeth as best she could before she got to work with the needles from the hauswife kit. She’d noticed the scissors had been removed the kit, not that much damage could have been done on the undead men with them.

“The governor wasn’t one for loud animals and Elizabeth is allergic to dogs. We used to feed the stray cats around the property sometimes,” She said. “Shame too, Jonathon and Joanie love animals and always play with the dog kept at the fort.”

“Most men of higher standing I notice at least keep some sort of exotic bird if not an old purebred mutt about,” Barbossa mused.

Flora shrugged, “Suppose the governor saw no need for it. Elizabeth probably would have just released a bird any way, she can’t stand to see anything caged. And I have enough to worry about chasing an eight-year-old around never mind a dog— Ow!” Flora dropped her stitching on the table and went to grab the strand of hair Jack the monkey currently had locked in his tiny fist.

“Jack,” Barbossa admonished the creature, who actually let go and tried to hide from his master behind her neck, using her hair as a curtain and thinking himself so clever. “Forgive him, he has a mind that he’s a baby once again,” Seeing her confused look he explained, “He’s not seen hair so long as yours in ages and for some monkeys it reminds them of their mothers. Thankfully you be wearing no jewelry or he’d surely have taken that as well”

Picking up her stitching she inspected it to make sure it hadn’t gotten loose. She was almost finished with that individual pattern and had only one left to go. “I’ve heard of being a monkey’s uncle but that one is certainly new. I also have no need of jewelry. I’ll just have to keep my hair up whenever Jack is around.”

“We’d be much obliged if ya didn’t,” Barbossa said slyly, causing her to look up at him. “Been a long time since me and the men have seen long pretty hair as well. Be a cryin’ shame to hide such a rare treat.”

Up until that moment she realized she had gotten too comfortable at that table with Barbossa. Even with the hilarious picture of a monkey picking through her hair she could pretend for a moment that she was sitting in a chair back at the manor in Port Royal, finishing up some sewing near the window that had the best light. Sometimes she’d sit in Elizabeth’s room and the two of them would talk while she sewed, looking out over the beautiful view of the bay. But she wasn’t home and it hit her again like a bucket of freezing water that she was a captive on a pirate ship and the man before her had terrible plans with her in mind. She more than likely would never go home.

“You don’t take compliments very well, do ya?” Barbossa had seen the sullen expression befall her and instead of changing the subject decided to engage. The girl was careful but had a fire in her that didn’t make her meek, or else she would have likely ended up in the brig after the first night she found out about the curse. She fought him in the only ways he could and that was with her words.

“It’s not a compliment coming from the tongue of a pirate and you know it!” She snapped. “I want no compliments; I’ve told you nothing I do here is for your pleasure.” The sooner she finished this last pattern maybe he would leave her alone. It was closing in on the third night of her captivity and she felt like she’d lived a lifetime of horrors whenever the sun went down.

He could tell she was deflecting and trying to rekindle the argument they’d had on deck earlier that morning. Instead Barbossa decided to swoop in and go for the weak spot he had been yearning to broach since he’d pulled her away from the railing as she watched her family drift back to shore.

“Surely your young man has told you how pretty ya are?” He watched her freeze at that, even her sewing paused, “I’m sure he loved seeing your hair down just as much as I do. Pretty sure he’s imagined seeing ya taking your hair down while he took other things off as well.”

The blush that cursed her horrified face at his words made him smirk and she dropped her sewing on the table, “Enough, who are you speaking of?”

_‘Oh so she’s trying to play coy about it,’_ he thought. “Don’t take me for unintelligent, girl. A blind man could see the way you and the boy looked at each other as ya sent him away on that dingy. Unless it’s completely one sided?” The way she nervously averted her eyes answered him, “Ah, so it’s reciprocal. Must have made family meals very interesting.”

“His father knew, we told him,” She argued, hating how he was making what was between her and Jon sound so salacious. “He gave his blessing. Besides I’ve known Jonathon since before our parents were married, back when my father was still alive. He’s been in my life since I was five years old.”

“Apologies, Miss,” Barbossa mocked, leaning back in his chair quite relaxed and fixing her with a look that relayed he was enjoying this far too much. “Must vex ya indeed to have wedding plans interrupted.”

“We didn’t have plans yet,” She didn’t know why she was telling him this, it was certainly no business of a pirate. But Barbossa had already started to stain the memory of her father and she would not have anything bad said of Jonathon. “He’s set on joining the navy and after a few years we were going to do it then. There was no hurry.”

The knowing grin on his face made her nervous, “Ah, so you set to be a seaman’s wife just like your ma. Didn’t figure you for a traditionalist.”

“Don’t talk about my mother!”

The sewing had been abandoned on the table, the last pattern was on the side of the waistcoat and likely to be hidden once the belt and strap were put back on. Flora had no more inclination to finish but fought the urge to chuck something at Barbossa. The monkey would make a fine substitute but upon Flora raising her voice it had scampered out of her hair and back to his perch hanging above the table. “I would live an honest life, a happy one. We were perfectly content in Port Royal before you came.”

Barbossa stood and started sauntering toward her and she fought the urge to get up and walk away from him, but remained firmly seated. “You were perfectly content to live a monotonous existence is what ya were. The sea be in your blood, girl, calling to ya all this time. Look how quickly ya took to life out here among us brutes. Any other wench would have gone mad with hysterics or tried to throw herself into the sea.”

“Do not confuse my want to live with wanting to live amongst you lot. I am no pirate, sir!” She didn’t like where this conversation was going, the hints he was giving about the fate he may have in store for her. If he decided to spare her from being killed she did not like the alternative suddenly presented in its stead, of her staying aboard with them. With him. She knew what would happen to her as the only woman in sight among leagues of ocean.

Barbossa had taken to leaning against the table just a few feet from her, crossing his arms and very relaxed. He had not been out of control of anything since she’d naively placed that medallion in his hand just three days ago, “Huh, I suppose there is is truth to the old sayin’. Whatever you give a woman she’ll make it greater. Give her a house, she’ll make it a home. Give her your seed and she’ll grow you a child. Give her some food and she’ll make you a fine meal. You give as good as you get, don’t you?”

“I’m not _getting_ anything!” His statement was probably meant to be endearing but coming from him it just sounded crude, “All I _want_ is to go home.”

“Well what you’ll be _getting_ is another compliment, lass.” He leered down at her, the scar over his one cheek more prevalent in the light reflected from the candles. “You don’t get anything but the bare basics from me and yet you make the most of it. That tartan of yours being the best example, using it as a proper cover from wandering eyes and the rain alike,” They both eyes the material folded in the corner and Flora prayed he wouldn’t think to take it away.

“It’s was my mother’s; I merely use it the same way she did. Growing up we didn’t have much and I won’t be greedy enough to ask for more than what I need, especially from you,” She argued back at him, thinking of the medallion he had coveted so desperately. “Chasing trinkets and gold seem to have gotten you nothing but trouble.”

The grimace that crossed his scarred face was there only a moment but she saw it, in fact, she reveled in it. He knew what she said was true and the last ten years he and his crew had paid the price for it. But as quickly as the doubt came it went, and Barbossa had the air of superiority about his person again.

“There is nothing wrong with pretty things and wanting to possess them. Even you be not immune to it,” He reached out and ran the edge of his hand down her face and trailed a finger down her neck. She leaned away slightly and tried not to flinch but panicked when she realized his finger was lingering over her mother’s pin which was fastened to the shoulder of her chemise under the red gown. She had forgotten to take it off and the dress often slipped off one shoulder because of how strangely it fit her, exposing the pin to him. Quickly bringing her hand up to cover it she hoped he wouldn’t try to take it, instead he chuckled.

“All that claim to not be needing much yet here you protect that wee little treasure from being pinched so fiercely.”

The words left her mouth quickly and she knew she would regret it, “This was my mother’s, one of the few possessions I have of her and from our old life before our ship sank all those years. So excuse me for being sentimental.”

He didn’t try to take it but his eyes lingered on the pin for a moment, “Huh. Your mother’s pin and tartan, your sister’s doll. Why, Miss Turner it seems you’ve nothing of value to claim as your own. We must remedy that one of these days.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” Flora said, pushing his hand away. Barbossa’s notions of favors and gifts only served himself and she loathed to think how he would remedy her having anything of value. “I’m a maid, sir. I know my place in the world and it is not a life on a pirate ship. I barely sleep with one eye open as it is with how often I keep thinking one of your men will pop out from the shadows.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard the lamenting of me crew since you covered the peephole,” He eyed the spot by the front doors still covered by the rag Flora placed there for some semblance of privacy. “Good eyes in finding one of them so quickly. If Ragetti hadn’t giggled so much I’m sure it would have taken longer.”

“Yes, that’s—I’m sorry, _ONE OF THEM!”_ She snapped her head to look up at him as her face blanched at what he had just revealed.

Arching an eyebrow at her he tilted his head as he took in her horrified expression, “Ya honestly thought there was only the one? Miss Turner, me men, very much like you, are the resourceful kind when it comes to their basic needs.” He reached over and took the waistcoat off the table, watching the girl blink as she processed what he had told her. “Thankee, Miss. Looks as good as new; I’m sure you’ll be getting a line of requests from the crew once they see your handiwork here. You’ll not be bored at all.”

She’d barely moved as he stood up from the table, but her eyes were suddenly darting to every dark crevice of the cabin, seeking a place where a pirate could be watching from somewhere she had not thought to look. Finally, she met the captain’s cruel eyes as they shined wickedly at her, reveling in the violation she felt.

“I can see you be tired so I’ll leave ya now. Sweet dreams and happy hunting,” He tipped his hat mockingly at her and made his way out the cabin, letting out a bellowing laugh as his monkey scampered after him.

As soon as the door closed she sprang up and snuffed out every candle she could find, enveloping the cabin in darkness. If Barbossa was telling the truth she wanted there to be nothing for these wretched men to see should they be able to spy on her. When she’d been made to change into the red dress earlier that evening Barbossa had actually surprised her and left the cabin, but now she knew there was still a way to strip her of her dignity. She gritted her teeth as she tried not to cry, but the day was catching up to her, and she frantically wiped the tears that escaped down her cheeks as she made her way toward the bed.

Climbing onto it she closed the curtain, truly blocking out every light source she could, and fumbled to get out of the dress. Once she did it was kicked to the bottom of the bed by her feet and she got under the covers, curling into herself and finally letting the sobs escape her. If any pirate were trying to spy on her they would be sadly disappointed with a dark room and only the sound of her muffled crying. She knew she’d have to make another sweep of the room in the morning and already began thinking of places to look.

_‘Happy hunting in deed,’_ She thought miserably. And for the first time since being brought aboard the _Black Pearl_ she fell asleep in the captain’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hauswife kit*- a sewing kit that seemed to be unisex in nature. I couldn't find much behind them but sailors were more equipped and knowledgeable about sewing since they had to upkeep their own sails and clothes. It wasn't strictly viewed as a 'feminine' chore, however embroidery is a different matter entirely, hence why Flora was approached for it. 
> 
> Also that quote Barbossa says about women making everything better is based on a quote from William Golding
> 
> Hope you enjoy these little flashbacks to their time on the Dauntless. Also I'm sorry if the mentions of cannibals in Africa by younger Jonathon seem a bit dated and horrendous but remember he is an 11yo boy in the early 1700's who's only been exposed to British colonization and stereotypes.
> 
> I'm also hoping you like the POV from Jonathon this chapter since I've neglected him a bit since the parley scenes. It definitely came to my attention that he and Flora's relationship needed to be discussed since it was already established by the beginning and didn't get too much of focus. Especially because I want to show how different the respected couples are as their stories develop. 
> 
> This chapter explores each of Jonathon and Flora's perspectives of their relationship but under very different circumstances. Jonathon starts off quite sad and an unsuspecting Gibbs becomes his outlet for his concerns, but the older man placates his fears. On the opposite side we have Flora as relaxed as she can be but then forced to speak of Jon because Barbossa initiates it. She knows her feelings can be used against her and after having to discuss and even justify her affections for Jon she in the end feels worse off for it. It also touches upon the unpleasant subject of the fear of being sexually assaulted, by both Flora and Jonathon. Flora is slowly realizing that she may be in for a grim fate at the hands of Barbossa even if spared as a blood sacrifice, and Jonathon wanting an honest perspective on how likely she is to be raped is a sad reality both have to contemplate.
> 
> And I'm making a guess right now but I'd say we have maybe only three chapters left until Isla de Muerta. I hope everybody is enjoying the story right now and the feedback I've gotten I have taken seriously. 
> 
> Up next, some sword fight training and traumatic gift giving.....


End file.
